The March
by DreadCraft
Summary: Instead of the Animorphs being kids, those same five people stumble onto Elfangor's wreckage as more mature people in mind and body. As such, they win and survive much more whole then in canon. Now the story refocuses on the possibilities they enabled.
1. End of the Long Night

******Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs or have any intention of profiting from the intellectual property of KA Applegate  
**

**The March: An Animorphs Fanfiction**

**All of us are guinea pigs in the laboratory of God. Humanity is just a work in progress. **

– **Tennessee Williams**

The story so far (AU)...

It was not five adolescents that found Elfangor that fateful night. It was those same five individuals with years of tempering. Of more sound mind and body, they did the impossible and freed Earth – while remaining whole in the process. Having fought hard to win their reprieve, they've settled down to enjoy their peace. Their story is over, but their actions have opened a wide berth of possibilities for humanity…

Chapter One: End of the Long Night

Aximili

I was utterly shocked that my young human comrades had done the impossible. Well, perhaps I should not have been surprised. It was my plan after all. Human weapons, despite their lack of sophistication, were as well adapted to the task of destruction as could be managed with their technology. Within days of ferrying a human bomb up to the Yeerk's pool ship, we struck their ground-based Kandrona. While the bomb wasn't enough to destroy the pool ship, it was within appropriate proximity to the location of their ship-based Kandrona. The Yeerks here in the human's so called 'Sol' system would starve in due time. Visser Three and his Blade Ship would likely be redlining his engines through Z-space, desperate to try to reach Yeerk territory before they starved. There is almost no chance of their making it. This brought me to my most immediate problem.

{You seriously expect me to believe your band of humans have successfully liberated Earth, _Aristh_ Aximili?} Council member Lirem-Arrepoth-Terrouss pointed both stalk eyes at me in suspicion.

{I realize the improbability of it all, sir, but I can assure you that is what happened. If you need proof, you could always send a scout.} Scout craft were very fast and stealthy, but of no use in battle. {If the scout's findings are correct, I am also in need of transport.}

{We shall see.}

* * *

As it turns out, Lirem arranged for the scout to come despite his condescension. The scout scanned the unmanned Pool Ship still hovering around Earth in orbit near the moon. The lack of life signs aboard vindicated my story. Now, I stood within the scout ship watching the viewports as Earth's image shrank. The blue planet eventually faded into a speck and I reflected on my time there.

Inwardly I smiled. There was so much wonder on this seemingly unimportant backwater of a planet. Yet, during my time on Earth, my friends and I had seen and experienced at least as much as a War Prince in my civilization. We befriended the revenants of a long dead race- the Chee, learned of the enigmatic and all-powerful Ellimist, found his toy time matrix, been the subject of unheard of scientific phenomena, and so much more.

Furthermore, something deep in my soul had changed. Never again would I look at my own people's social mores as the penultimate of civilization. Too much culture and mutual respect had been exchanged. I wondered what would become of my friends. Perhaps, by chance, I might even see them again. Stranger things can, and have, happened to me in my time. Knowing them, as much as an alien could know a human, they would be back to being the people they were meant to be. Still somewhat unclear as to how human mating worked, I nonetheless was convinced that some of them showed signs of being pair-bonded as an Andalite would think of such things. Prince Jake would probably take Cassie as his female. I reminded myself that the humans called it a _wife_. Tobias would likely do the same with Rachael. They would be lauded as heroes by their people and would want for nothing. I absentmindedly let my thoughts turn to my brother. No doubt, Elfangor would have been happy to learn of Tobias' fate once he remained _nothlit_ in his original form. _Live well, nephew._

_{Aristh_, I could use a copilot.} The warrior piloting the scout reminded me. The craft was a two-man vessel and he had to forgo a co-pilot to make room for me. The trip here was likely taxing.

Of course. I strode into the operators' compartment and looked at the controls. It was good to be behind the _wheel_ of an Andalite craft again, as the humans would say. {Is this a new model?} I asked excitedly. Newer models of these scouts had significant engine upgrades. This would be a fun ride home.

* * *

Unbeknownst to me, my homecoming would be somewhat less fun than the trip there. When I say 'less fun' I mean that with all the human understatement I had ever learned. War Prince Galuit met me at the head of a detachment of armed warriors. I had just stepped out of the scout craft as we were docked at a major fleet base on one of our moons. Seeing the company waiting for me, I snapped to rigid attention, hoping my reaction would make a favorable impression. I had some hope as the War Prince seemed to favor me when I met him on Leera.

{Sir, may I ask if I am in trouble?} I privately directed the thought-speak at the War Prince.

He turned a stalk at to me as we walked, cocooned in the shell of warriors. {That really depends on how you handle this debriefing. High Command is split on your situation. You could be the biggest hero since your brother or the biggest fool since Seerow.} The War Prince led me to a chamber where High Command usually met. Milling about were half the War Princes in the fleet!

You clearly were not exaggerating, sir. I thought back to War Prince Galuit. He merely waved his stalk eyes in the Andalite approximation of a human nod.

Chairing this debrief looked to be a very old, reportedly moderate War Prince Menenil. {First off, _Aristh_ Aximili, I would express our condolences at the loss of Prince Elfangor. Secondly, I'd like to make clear that we are not trying to marginalize the skill and courage it took to free a planet without help…} He pointed his stalk eyes at one grouping of princes. I had not noticed before, but the War Princes seemed to be arranged into two cliques. The smaller, but more senior, group of veteran hard-liners on one side, it seemed, and some of the most daring new War Princes and their affiliates on the other. {…but we must observe protocol.} I had an inkling of what would come next.

{You gave the power of the _escafil_ device to primitives.} War Prince Jaham sneered. There it was; the root of all problems, in the minds of the insular members of High Command. The underlying ghost of xenophobia was something I had become aware of during my time on Earth. These bigots wanted to crucify me because I had given technology to the humans. The thought of telling the truth and foisting the blame on Elfangor crossed my mind, but I discarded it just as quickly. Of course, the High Command knew the truth, but the official line was that I had done it. In turn that would naturally assume I'd take full responsibility for it.

In their world, Earth was 'small beans'. The loss of Elfangor, a champion of the people, and the other warriors on board the Galaxy Tree had to be blamed on someone. Why not its lone survivor?

{And I suppose the victory over the many thousands of Yeerks by this young lad means nothing, I suppose?} War Prince Calait defended in turn. It seemed my fate was to be the prize in this ideological battle.

{Despite what the _Aristh_ is reputed to have done, we cannot simply ignore the breaking of laws.} Jaham shot back.

_{Aristh_, you must change your official stance and let the truth be known. Elfangor gave your compatriots the power.} Galuit said to me in private thought-speak.

{Never! Elfangor gave up everything fighting the Yeerks. I won't take away his reputation.}

{You won't. This war is teetering on edge, about to tip either way. The High Command would never allow Elfangor's memory to be tarnished. It would be too big of a blow to morale. They would spin the situation in the most positive light. I know you think this is the coward's way out, but we need more heroes in this war. In fact, we need the ideological shift. We simply don't have the numbers to check the Yeerks throughout the galaxy by ourselves. Your example would allow targeted species to shoulder more of the burden, like on Leera. It would be harder on the Yeerks than on us and these prideful fools won't have it.}

I didn't like it. It was a selfish decision, but a necessary one. {Sirs, you know full well it was my brother that gave the power to the humans.}

The shock emanating from the old guard was palpable. My supporters seemed satisfied. The ploy was likely circulated prior to this meeting.

{Curse you, degenerate fool! How dare you attempt to foist blame on your noble brother?} Jaham bellowed out his thoughts.

{Jaham, the records show it was truly Elfangor that gave the power to the humans. We can legally admit that now that the young _Aristh_ has recanted his prior statements.} Menenil firmly countered. Jaham glared at me with all four eyes, but the requirements of law were satisfied.

{But what of Aximili's use of Z-space communications? Surely we cannot overlook that.} War Price Nahilim, a shrewd hard-liner commented. The faction supporting me grew tense. This was another transgression that could not be attributed to Elfangor. The fact that I used Z-space communications in front of primitives was tantamount to giving them the technology itself. They now knew what to look for.

{They would have learned those secrets from salvaging the Yeerk technology anyways.} I spoke evenly.

{But they're primitives. They have no inkling as to how to reach or operate the Yeerk equipment.} Nahilim sputtered.

{Please, Nahilim. I've studied Elfangor's notes on the humans. They may be primitive, but the basic tenets of spaceflight and reverse engineering are not beyond them. By not giving the orders to remove the Yeerk technology from their systems, it would be we that would be responsible for giving them the technology.} Calait defended me again.

The hard-liners finally looked defeated. They would have to give way to the inevitable.

* * *

A month later I found myself promoted to the rank of commander. War Prince Calait himself took me underneath his wing as his tactical officer on board his flagship - the dome ship Thousand Blades. We were in a system belonging to a race called the Anati. It was deemed a vulnerable target because of the intelligence I had gathered while on Earth. We knew they would be short on ships but heavy on ground-based cannon in the asteroid belt around the main planet. We would be escorting a carrier ship – the Venerable Hoof - so that its fighters could destroy the ground-based Dracon cannons. The ground-based cannon were unlikely to have turret mechanisms quick enough to reliably target the swift fighters.

{The space battle will be the easy part. It's the ground battle that will be hard fought.} War Prince Calait said to me. {When this is over, I'll need you to lead a detachment down to the planet to coordinate with the free Anati.}

I nodded with my stalk eyes and thought about the Anati. I had read reports on them and had seen holo-images provided by scouting parties. They were insects. The body was like that of an oversized grub from which spouted a somewhat humanoid torso and a head that reminded me of an Earth mantis. The legs were sturdy and its arms were also mantis-like. Male Anati manipulated technology through four prehensile, flagellate protrusions from its torso. The whole ensemble was covered in greenish exoskeleton. The reason the Yeerks were interested in the Anati was due to the strength of their bodies. The exoskeleton was a mix between mineralogical bone and insect chitin. In addition to covering them, the insides of their bodies were crisscrossed in a honeycombed network of the stuff. It gave the species better strength-to-weight ratio than any ten foot tall sentient should have. The planet was also a mineralogical treasure trove which could be exploited by the naturally talented miners that the Anati were.

More importantly, I had to have knowledge of their society in order to array them against the Yeerks. Above all, the Anati were a people that valued progression and development. They took the concept of intellectual curiosity to ludicrous levels. There really was nothing an Anati wouldn't try, including Yeerks. I had my work cut out for me.

I had wanted to go back to Earth to establish relations, but the galactic situation was volatile. My people couldn't spare enough men or material to send a proper delegation back there. This war had to take precedence above all else. I missed my friends. And the pittance of a Yeerk presence on this planet would receive the full brunt of my displeasure.

* * *

**AN – Okay, here's the rundown on any background I think the reader will need to know. In terms of AU differences, the Animorphs did not strike at the Kandrona in book 7. Instead, they kept the knowledge in their back pockets. The story ends sometime in the book 40s. The important thing is that, for most of the Animorphs, their war is over. I'm giving them the maximum amount of closure without cutting out major characters, races, and plot developments. **

**The reason I had to do this is to shift the theme of Animorphs away from KA Applegate's themes. I'm playing around in her universe but this isn't a coming-of-age story with adolescents. I'm taking her universe and running it in full sci-fi war mode. The scale of things will be expanded beyond six friends.**


	2. Our Land

**We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately. – Benjamin Franklin**

Chapter Two: Our Land

The President of the United States

I have no idea if future generations would exalt or revile me for my role in humanity's fate, but after the momentous events of our day I couldn't care less.

The United Nations convened a special world summit following the expulsion of the alien invaders. Hundreds of thousands of former parasitic hosts stepped forth, fully detailing the horrors that they had undergone. The powerful and privileged were not immune. A member of the Chinese _politburo_ and the heir-designate of the House of Windsor were among those freed. But how could we, as humanity, ever fully embrace the momentous changes that would have to occur. I can't get the two parties in congress to agree on anything on a good day. Humanity was hip-deep in petty agendas and ignorance.

However, something had to be done. The young heroes had faith in the 'good guy' aliens – these Andalites. Nevertheless, they relented on the fact that these Yeerks could be back. My generals and advisors pretty much said the same thing. We need to be ready to defend ourselves now that we have been exposed to a wider world.

The problem was that we were still Americans, or French, or Egyptians, or Russians, or Argentinians. We weren't humans. The alien ship in orbit would be towed to a new space station – NASA assured me they could do this with the new 200 billion dollar grant they received from congress – closer to Earth and put into stable geosynchronous orbit. The pieces of the ship would have to be disassembled and brought down to the planet to be studied. It would take time, but it was a done deal. As soon as it was known, however, various nation states began bickering over the anticipated technological influx. Everyone wanted a piece of the high-tech pie. Even nominal allies, like our fellow NATO members, were getting uppity. Kim Jong was threatening nuclear strikes. As the 'leader of the free world' it was my job to sort out this state of affairs. I'd foist the whole responsibility on the leader of the young heroes – Jacob Berenson – but he wasn't interested in politics.

All the usual backroom dealing, budget balancing, and pork barreling political action was a poor substitute for the experience I'd need to pull this off. Just then, the door opened, and my secret service detail was escorting someone into the room.

"Sir, there's someone here that wants to meet you." Scott Gellar, the head of my detail, informed me. A kid, barely old enough to drink, walked into the room. My memory tugged at me and I realized it was one of the young heroes. The dark hair and olive complexion suggested it was Marco. No wonder my detail let him through. The kid was becoming a hit with the media after the war. Maybe I could get him to work a miracle on my behalf.

"Ah, Marco, it's so good to finally meet you. What brings you around?" I asked him as he settled into the richly upholstered chair in front of my desk.

"Well, not to seem selfish or anything, but I fully intend to exploit my new found fame. And if my new status can't even allow me to meet the president, what was the point of saving the world anyways?" He asked rhetorically.

I chuckled. "I'm happy to oblige a genuine American hero. Can I have service get anything for you, young man?"

"That's not necessary, Mr. President." He said, somewhat unconvincingly.

"Nonsense! Why don't you share a bottle of scotch with me? I could use a drink anyways." I offered. He agreed and a thousand dollar decanter of scotch was brought up along with a bucket of ice and two glasses.

"No offense, Mr. President, but isn't it kind of early to start drinking?" He kid asked me.

"Actually, I flew in from Madrid via Washington for the World Crisis Summit." I explained to him. I had just been through La Guardia not two hours ago. "So I guess you could say I'm not adjusted yet."

"Uh huh." He said, unconvinced. I had to give it to the kid. He was sharp. I briefly considered offering him the vice presidency for my reelection. Then I realized some crazy might just try to kill me to get their idol into the White House. "That would explain a mimosa, glass of wine, or a beer. That is no small amount of scotch." Kid had me pegged.

"It's that Yeerk ship hovering over us. Congress gave NASA two hundred billion to haul it down here. Now everyone wants a piece of the action." I explained. It was nominally confidential, but I doubt anyone would hassle the President of the United States and A Savior of Mankind about it.

"It belongs to humanity." He blurted out before realizing something. "Sorry Mr. President. I've sorta grown accustomed to thinking about species and all one peoples. I suppose that would be a major problem for you."

"No… you're right." A plan started forming in my mind. In the morning, I'd have my Secretary of State arrange a meeting with the Brits and Chinese. For now, I'd get in a little bit of positive publicity with the young hero.

* * *

The summit began just as I expected it. The benches of General Assembly Hall were commandeered by various heads of state in lieu of their actual UN representatives. Veiled, polite threats, demands, and complaints were in abundance. The King of Saud actually tried to outright buy Yeerk salvage with petroleum, I kid thee not.

After the bluster began to lose its steam, which actually took several hours, I headed for the lectern. "First of all, let me assure you that I recognize that the outcome of recent momentous occasions does not belong to any one nation." My fellow big-wigs relaxed slightly. "But short of breaking the alien artifacts into billions of pieces and sending them to every man, woman, and child in the world, how can I reasonably distribute the treasures when we, humanity, are as far-flung as we are?"

"You just want to keep the alien technologies for your own nation." Spat one of the delegations, promptly translated to me through me earpiece. I'll not tell you whether it was the Iranians, Russians, or any number of the more hostile heads of state. You can leave that up to your imagination, or possibly tomorrow's newspaper.

I hardened my features. "Like it or not, I hold the keys to the future. And I do fully intend on sharing it, but the price is you listening to me first." I had gotten elected based on my down-to-earth nature that voters identified with. Now it was time for that sort of plain speaking. I outlined my proposal.

* * *

In the end, it took two whole weeks of cajoling (the Brits and Chinese were especially helpful), an additional eight months of various lawyers and experts hashing out the details, and a year of putting the pieces in play, but it was a done deal in the end. The hodgepodge of nations that was the United Nations was gone. In its place, the newly erected nation – the Federated Terran Republic - stood. It was testament to a fundamental truth I had to hammer home many a time. As one people, there is only needed one set of laws. Gone were the old rivalries. Either you were on board with a united humanity, or you were left in the cold. The unspoken sword of Damocles that hung over everyone's heads was that Aliens existed, they could be hostile, and they could be back. No one could afford to not have a piece of the leftover Yeerk technology, and everyone would have to play nice to get it.

Of course there would be holdouts. Dictators with their little fiefdoms, those wretched hives of scum and villainy, were not exactly into the spirit of cooperation. There would be war. They were a security risk, and the newly minted Republic was falling over itself to prove to one another their belief, and muscle, could win out. Considering that most of the world's population and economic might were already in the fold, it would be a walkover.

The Yeerk technologies were sent to which ever place had the best chance of dealing with it. Now that it was all the same pie, world leaders were a little more amenable to having the real experts deal with the cutting edge science, no matter where they hailed from. CERN, Lawrence Livermore, Tokyo, Moscow, NASA, Beijing, Boeing, Lockheed, all the usual players were utilized

Of more immediate concern were my Joint Chiefs. I had to get them to police up the world and coordinate with all the other militaries in the Republic in integrating into Armed Forces of the Federated Republic (AFFR). I scanned their faces, mostly middle-aged but still fit men. They were: chairman General David Yost of the Air Force, vice chairman Admiral Michael Graves of the Navy, Chief of Staff of the Army General Damien Cox, Commandant of the Marine Corp General Bernard Weaver, Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Daniel Nygren, Chief of Staff of the Air Force Fred Hixon, and Senior Enlisted Advisor CSM Ed Vecchio.

"Okay, here's the deal, gentlemen. The conditions stipulated by the terms of our new constitution allow for the nation states to have their own armies for security as well as blue water navies. The space navy is to only exist as a federal entity, however. The first generation ships, which won't be due for another couple decades, are going to be funded and crewed by the nation-state members. That's a practical reality, but it'll all have to have the stamp of approval at federal levels." I spelled out the conditions for my joint chiefs. I expected more hubbub from these zealously patriotic men-in-uniform, but they just nodded. I suppose having an alien invasion happening under their noses was a wake-up call they couldn't ignore.

Speaking of the results of the summit, I'd be remiss not to think about the changes in governance that would have to occur. Essentially, the world would follow American and EU frameworks. As a federal republic, things would remain the same, but there would be a more comprehensive level of government at the planetary or multi-planetary level if we ever got that far. There would be a head executive responsible for representing Earth in an official capacity as well as upholding the Republic constitution across national boundaries, and commanding the armed forces. Some key provisos of the constitution included: free trade across all borders, respect for the Republics bill of rights (really the only laws the Republic had), and a single, unified currency – the Terran Credit. _I swear my life is now being directed by George Lucas._ I actually had to respect the Chinese in all this, though. More than anyone, they would have to rework their authoritarian laws. The Republican constitution stipulated any head-of-state of a member nation could be elevated to the head executive of the federal government, but only if that head-of-state was democratically elected. That meant that the Chinese communist party wasn't allowed a stranglehold anymore, but the rest of their system was allowed.

This was all work that would not see fruit until long after I had left office. Other politicians around the globe were elderly and would probably not see the end of their work in their lifetimes. But it was enough to know I had done my part. A bemused thought, poked at my mind. _Didn't General Cox say Jake Berenson accepted an officer's commission?_ I supposed Humanity would dig up leadership as needed.


	3. Interlude: Wars of the Mind

**The ideal tyranny is that which is ignorantly self-administered by its victims. The most perfect slaves are, therefore, those which blissfully and unawaredly enslave themselves. – Donald James Wheal (AKA Thomas Dresden, Dresden James, Donald James, et al)**

Chapter Three: Interlude - Wars of the Mind

Professor Emeritus of Theoretical Physics, University of California Berkeley

I was a virtual prisoner in my own mind. My body wiped away the viscous sludge that clung to the side of my face. Long-necked, beaked brutes – some alien species of which I had no knowledge - held me prostrate until my body indicated that it was no longer under my control. They let me up and my body cleaned off the residual sludge at a wash basin.

Later I would learn that I was under the control of a neural-parasite alien called a Yeerk. It was an intelligent being, if lacking in more essential wisdoms. It let me understand that I was taken because of my status. It tried to disparage me with stories of how I was taken unawares by one of my most trusted graduate students – the underlying message being that they could be anyone.

I struggled against it. I railed against it fiercely in my mind. The greatest asset upon which I had built my career, my intellect, was fully attenuated to the struggle. And a fierce struggle it was.

During an important symposium, I gathered the full might of my faculties and engaged the Yeerk in a struggle of wills. My outward behavior became erratic. My speech slurred and I seemed to seize in a jittery palsy. My horrified colleagues could only witness a small part of the horror. The Yeerk eventually overcame my recalcitrance. I was taken to a hospital where I was pronounced to have had a minor stroke. The doctor looked at me knowingly when we were alone. He said "control your host".

I was ordered to convalesce at home. Under the care of my wife, the Yeerk tormented me with threats centering on my wife and children. Perhaps even my grandchildren would be made to suffer. I told it I would never cease to struggle, but I would no longer mount any more obvious contests for control. It seemed to be satisfied.

The Yeerk had me lead two lives. One was spent as a human, a professor. It was my own distinguished life. The other life was that of the Yeerk. It seemed to be a military officer of some descript. It titled itself "sub-visser twenty-one". I knew I had not the strength to win against this invader on my own, but I would do what I could. I would wait, watch, and learn. It lived in a world of technological marvels. This, I could not deny. Yet the wellspring of this wealth of information did not come from it. The creature, while of sound deductive capacity, decisive reasoning, and some imagination, could not be the architect of the technological marvels it commanded. I saw examples of faster-than-light travel, particle beam type directed energy weapons, and alien physiologies. The Yeerk was smart, but by no means brilliant.

My perspective was limited, however. I was an illiterate thrust into an alien culture. I tried to decipher the alien script adorning the controls of their spacecraft, but it was tediously slow progression. The Yeerk knew my mind. Yet it was arrogant beyond all reason. It saw everything and everyone as slaves to be cultivated. It told me its name – Etrik eight-eight-one of the Flet Niar Pool. It taught me the Yeerk's language, amused by my attempts at studying the alien invaders. And so I learned, while he self-aggrandized.

I was less than impressed by the state of affairs in our galaxy. The Yeerks were a newly emancipated people. They were adolescents recently come into their own power, not yet tempered by a complex history of trials and tribulations, successes and failures. As soon as they were showed a wider world and the technological means for manipulating that world, they grew drunk upon their new power. They cast aside their teachers – these Andalites – and pillaged the heavens for resources. Above all, they feared their own natural state: blind, deaf, helpless. This was the root of their crusade. They were railing against their own inadequacies.

The Andalites themselves were enormously strong of mind and body. Yet they too had their faults. They were actually a simply people. While more capable than any human, man-for-man, they retreated into the lifestyle of their ancestors. They were an interstellar hegemony still relying mostly on cottage-industry.

If the Yeerk infiltration of our world were to be discovered, I had hope that the cultural maturity of our people would allow us to stand in the face of terrible technological disadvantages. But would we ever get a chance to fight back?

* * *

It turns out we had been fighting all along. One day, my Yeerk learned of his impending doom from starvation. Some sort of resistance group, human or Andalite, had struck at its most ghastly weakness. The devices that fed the creature the unique energies of its home were destroyed. In three days I would be free.

When I 'reawakened', I was joined by other people in the hundreds of thousands. We learned that the source of our salvation were a group of young men and women the same age as the overgrown children I saw on the campus of my University every day. I swelled with pride and felt vindicated. The aliens exploited our humanity for their gain, but were, in turn, destroyed by the very thing they sought to exploit.

Those of us newly freed, who above all knew the consequences of being ill-prepared, fell into step with the new world order. The Yeerk technology was salvaged and brought to Earth. I leapt at the opportunity to study it and volunteered myself and whatever influence I had. I tore into the intellectual feast with ravenous hunger. My knowledge of the Yeerk language allowed me to translate the entirety of their digitized data after it had been forcibly cracked by the NSA. With the knowledge that I learned in captivity, I shorted the work of centuries into a decade. The Yeerk's arrogance was a defining trait. It would also be its downfall.

Now, the Yeerks would learn a lesson in humility and in humanity. In this, I am reminded of a piece of Shakespeare. _If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?_


	4. Victory and Defeat

**Another such victory over the Romans, and we are undone. – King Pyrrhus of Epirus**

Chapter Four: Victory and Defeat

Prince-Captain Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill

In the time I had spent on Earth, I spent a good deal of it reading human publications to gain a sense of understanding. One time, I happened upon a book of quotes uttered by individuals humans considered especially wise or famous. I am reminded of a saying by an ancient human historian named Herodotus. _In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons._

After several years of being a warrior, the saying chills me to my core. It is clever, poignant, and haunting. I have indeed seen too many fathers bury their sons. I am proud to have served. I am proud of my victories. Above all, I am proud to defend my people. I am not proud of the costs. I have seen my own father bury a son, figuratively. Elfangor's remains are, of course, lost forever. He was not the first, nor would he be the last. I have seen parents, mates, and children cry over the loss of a warrior under my command.

That being said, we were finally making headway in this war. These past several years the only people being bled more than us were the Yeerks. For every host taken, a previous host was destroyed. The Yeerkish forward progress had come to a screeching halt. Now, the pieces were in place to launch a strike at a principle Yeerk world. Our target was the Taxxon homeworld. I snapped out of my reverie as our fleet emerged from Z-space.

{Sensors indicates the reconnaissance data was correct. The Yeerk forces in-system are insufficient to repulse us.} One of my bridge crew informed me. That meant that the Yeerks only had three blade ships and two pool ships to our eight dome ships. The only variable was the number of bug fighters stationed on planet and in their lunar fleet base. Hopefully, the Venerable Hoof's fighter complement would be enough. {Receiving firing orders from the flagship. Target pool ship designated tango-one.}

{Launch fighters and maneuver for a shot with the main tail-cannon. Re-align by x and y axes, and fire as she bears.} I gave the commands to my bridge crew. As soon as the tail shredder cannon aligned its self, a bright beam lit the space from my ship the distant pool ship. Though the raw energy fed into the weapon was equivalent to the heat energy required to boil the atmosphere of a whole planet, the distance between my ship and the target, combined with its shielding technology and armor, reduced the destructive throughput to an explosive bloom a hundred feet across. Space lit up with several more beams from the other dome ships. All were targeted on the same pool ship I had hit. Explosions wracked the rapidly dying craft as its pieces sheared apart and drifted out of planetary orbit.

After having announced our arrival, the Yeerk forces made haste to greet us. Hundreds of bug fighters spilled forth from the remaining pool ship, the planet below, and the fleet base on the moon. It looked as if our fighters would be outnumbered three to one. They had double the number of fighters we were expecting. This would be an intense slaughter on both sides unless someone got a brilliant idea. Doing some quick calculation in my head, I decided I would hazard a plan. {Get me a channel to War-Prince Galuit.} I thought to communications.

{Affirmative. Razor Tail is receiving.} My communications officer promptly told me.

{Sir, if we press the attack this will get very bloody very quickly.}

{I know, Aximili. But what can we do? I don't believe there is a warrior in the fleet that would run away with his tail between his legs as long as even a chance of victory remains.} He said truthfully. Indeed, we were still in a decent position to win. This is what made the situation all the more galling. But at what cost?

{I think there is a way to improve our chances.} He blinked all four eyes in surprise.

{What do you have planned?} He asked me.

{It's a little bit long-winded. I just need authorization to take command of the operation.} I flatly told him.

{Alright, keep the channel open and I'll relay the orders.}

{We shall make an emergency jump back to Z-space. Plot us a course just beyond their picket sensors and regroup. Have the support fleet ready to exit Z-space inside of Taxxa's asteroid belt on the far side of the third planet.} Galuit looked incensed at first, but grew curious. He relayed the orders and the fleet jumped away.

Just beyond the range of Yeerk picket sensors the fleet reformed. {Have the fleet wait ten standard minutes.} I asked of Galuit. This amount of time was equal to about twenty-one to twenty-two minutes in human measurement. {We go back in on maximum burn.}

{That will leave us nearly drained of energy, I hope you know.} Galuit informed me.

{I am well aware of that sir.}

As planned, we reversed course and redlined the engines back to Taxxa. Jumping out, I gave the next part of my plan. {To all ships, fire on the moon! Spread pattern.} Eight beams of energy, thousands of petajoules strong, struck all over. The effects were horrific. The atmosphere boiled and the crust cracked open some. On the planet, earthquakes would ruin whatever installations survived the direct effects of the attack. {That did it. They recalled their fighters after we ran, thinking they had won. Now they're out of the fight.} Indeed, the strike had cut their fighter strength by a third.

{That was clever indeed, Aximili, but what now? We don't have any energy left to jump into Z-space or fire weapons.} Galuit voiced his apprehensions.

{We shall make for asteroid belt. Let's rendezvous with the support fleet. Maximum sublight burn.} The support fleet consisted of scouts and transports carrying medical supplies, troops, and, most importantly, emergency fuel.

Near the edge of the asteroid belt, we came upon another problem. {We're being pursued by what looks to be all remaining bug fighters and the three blade ships.} My sensor operator told me. {Have all dome ships and the Hoof deploy fighters soon as we get into the asteroids. Harass the Yeerks as they come through.} Losses among the fighter corps would be grievous, but better than losing a dome ship.

Anxiously I waited as seconds ticked by and the fleet took on emergency fuel from the tenders. {All ships, bear tail cannon towards the belt as soon as you have sufficient fuel.} When the blade ships cleared the asteroids, only half of our dome ships were combat ready. But those that were ready fired almost instantaneously on the enemy. Four more lances of energy converged on the lead blade ship, pulverizing it instantly. There were more stray molecules left over than actual wreckage. The two remaining blade ships realized the dire straits they were in and attacked with reckless abandon. They homed in on the leading dome ship, which happened to be War-Prince Galuit's. Both of them ravaged the Razor Tail with alpha strikes, firing every weapon on board at maximum power. Subsidiary explosions shook the Razor Tail. Desperate to save the War-Prince, all available done ships fired again. The three tail cannon strikes left another blade ship adrift, dead in space. The remaining blade ship fired its weapons again, a direct hit on the dome. Leaking atmosphere, the fleet watched in horror as a fracture gutted the dome section. Magnified images showed andalite bodies being sucked into space. The temperatures in the void instantly froze their bodies before they could even suffocate to death. As if their gruesome death wasn't enough, the remaining blade ship rammed itself into the Razor Tail in a vivid display of fanaticism. The Razor Tail broke up in multiple places along the spine amidst a dazzling explosion as its power core lost stability.

{Tell the support fleet to launch recovery craft. We go to finish the enemy.} I commanded gravely. The shell-shocked fleet did not even hesitate to follow. I was nominally third in command of the fleet after Prince-Captain Taguash, as he had several years of seniority over me. After losing Galuit, it seemed no one had stomach for argument.

* * *

The remaining pool ship was grossly outmatched by the remaining seven dome ships. It was quickly put an end to and the fleet methodically bombarded key Yeerk installations on planet. Invasion of Taxxa would be foolish at best. However, a blockade, just as we did to the Yeerk homeworld, would suffice. For all intents and purposes, Taxxa was ours. Still thinking of the Razor Tail, I morbidly wondered how many andalite fathers would be told their sons would not be continuing their family lines.


	5. Whoso Pulleth Out this Sword

_**Be prepared to nerdgasm. This chapter is my best bet at techno-babble and it will be your guide to understanding how races scale and stack up in this expanded Animorphs universe. **_

**All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent. – Thomas Jefferson**

Chapter Five: Whoso Pulleth Out this Sword of this Stone…

Rajesh Visvajit – 3rd President of the Federated Terran Republic

This was to be the first of three meetings. As a person who, since boyhood, inherited a national ethos highly influenced by Mahatma Gandhi, I was disquieted by the degree of belligerence on display. The Federated Terran Republic was founded, in the view of the cynic, to extort technology. It was followed by a short war that was more aptly a slaughter. Now, only fifteen years since its inception, it was undergoing its first military buildup. And despite the lofty title of President, I was helpless to do anything but accede to the demands of my generals.

Indeed the Yeerk invasion of years past still haunts humanity. Some hundreds of thousands were enslaved. We encountered a scenario in which free will itself was threatened and the external threat united humanity by rousing its collective anger. "Remind me, gentleman, why I am even here? I have little or no knowledge of military matters. Likely, all I am to do over the next three days is nod my hand and rubber stamp your suggestions."

"That's exactly why you have to be here sir." An American Aerospace Force general said from across the table. Dredging up his name from my memory, I recalled a General Fred Hixon. "You are our legal commander-in-chief and the supreme civilian authority to which we answer. I count it as a good thing that all military forces answer to civilian government."

I nodded. "True enough. By all means, begin."

"This should be right up yer alley, _sahr_." A British general tried to console me in his thick Scottish brogue. "Alotto da stuff we ha' today is right civilian."

"More than anything, the foremost barrier to us fielding a space navy is the power requirements of operating next generation weaponry and engines. As you can imagine, power isn't just for the military. There's just as much civilian application as there is for us." General Hixon spelled out for me.

"Reasonable," I allowed. "Continue."

"Our best bet for powering ships and weapons of the magnitude we've designed is antimatter. The basic principles were understood even before the Yeerks. When we reverse engineered their technology, all it did was confirm some deeply theoretical stuff we've suspected all along but couldn't experiment on or, hence, prove. Their designs also gave us practical ideas on how to go about it. Now, I ain't a rocket scientist, so I'll let Taka explain." Hixon said. He was alarmingly good at dealing with politicians it seemed.

A general from the JSDF spoke next, all computer-translated of course. "Borrowing principles of field manipulation from the Yeerks, we were able to apply it to a technique we call bubble implosion reactions. Normally, we would have to use particle accelerators to smash particles and isolate a miniscule yield of antiprotons from it. However, with field assisted bubble implosions, we're able to do particle smashing on a huge scale. The principle is that we bombard heavy solvents, meaning deuterium-laden, with neutrons and then expand it with ultrasonic cavitations. The bubble implodes at high speed, making it a particle smasher with the right field-assisted geometric operations. TDK and General Electric are prepared to open huge 'particle farms' on the moon. They're literally going to cover the lunar surface with these facilities. In addition to antimatter, they can produce all sorts of exotic particles and rare isotopes."

The scientific jargon made my head spin, but I tried my best to wrap my head around the concepts being presented. "Anything else?"

General Hixon took charge of the conversation once again. "First of all, all this requires a pretty steep expenditure of start-up energy, so we'll have to proliferate our current fusion power network. In total, bringing our energy output up to the levels required of a space-faring race is going to take between one trillion credits now, and another trillion over the next five years."

Economics was something I knew plenty of. The credit was a unit of currency equal to the buying power of a turn-of-the-century American dollar. He was asking for no small amount. However, with the civilian implications and the idea that this would revolutionize all of humanity was something not to be ignored. "Alright. But I must warn you. You've already used up half the appropriations earmarked for these proceedings."

A Chinese general next spoke. "In addition to these exotic resources, we need an appropriate supply of structural materials. That means we need to set up mining concerns in the asteroid belt and, eventually, the kuiper belt. This should be a little simpler, however. It's mostly an investment of men and mining equipment. A hundred billion credit appropriations should suffice." I sighed. Hopefully, this sort of defense spending wasn't going to become an annual affair.

Again, General Hixon caught my behavioral shifts. "Sir, I know it seems like a lot of money and that the tail is wagging the dog, but this is a real necessity. The space navy is a proof-of-concept that will eventually branch out into civilian space colonization. Since the invasion, most of our smart young men and women have begun to choose a high-tech career path. Ten years ago, they would have all been investment bankers or doctors. If we don't go through with this, we risk a lot jobless people. This sort of defense spending is going to bootstrap the economy in ways you can't imagine. The high tech industries can't take the risk of re-tooling without a guaranteed payoff. If they have it, though, you're going to see massive hiring sprees that will send unemployment through the floor. All the new 'everythings' that are subsequently developed is projected to revitalize new waves of consumerism, propagating industries that aren't currently at the cutting edge. These appropriations will pay for themselves in a decade or so." As I thought, the cogent arguments were well thought out in advanced. I was rubber stamping. In this case, though, the arguments were not only convincing, I was beginning to see the appeal.

* * *

Today was the second day of a three part meeting with my Joint Chiefs. On the agenda: the space navy.

The lead pitch today was Lord-Admiral Harrington. The Brit was easy enough to get along with, amicable as the British aristocracy was. "The article of most import will be that of a ship-of-the-line for space combat. The designs submitted merely exist in the microscale and in discreet components. The ships, though designed, have only been computationally modeled, and no actual prototype exists. Once funding is approved, we're 'in it' as the Yanks would say." I gestured for him to continue, with a wave of the hand. "Two competing designs exist. The first is the Aerobus hull SCX-1. It is built around a supermassive Heckler and Koch railgun rated at two-hundred gigajoules. The rest of its armament would be H&K coilgun turrets spread in forty turrets along the hull. British Petroleum believes they've got the antimatter reactors needed to power the whole ensemble. Like the competing design, it too will have Dupont's Cuirass composite armor. The armor is hundreds of alternating layers of four substances: a crystalline-ceramic layer, a carbon nanotube layer, a magnetorheological gel layer, and a ferrous liquid-metal layer." He explained, complete with computer images for me to look at.

Truth, be told, in that moment I gave up all hope of understanding these proceedings. Was there not some sort of defense minister or scientific advisor I could send in my stead?

"Begging your pardon, George, but aren't you forgetting something?" An American admiral interrupted brusquely.

"We've discussed this already, Michael. The crew can be rested on planets and the disadvantages are far outweighed by the advantage of that monster gun. Your laser weapon is too susceptible to diffraction armor."

"To be fair, George, we've made some changes since the last briefing." The American admiral turned to me. "If I may, Mr. President?"

"If you must." I replied coolly.

He dialed up a picture of a black, oblong shaped vessel. "I know it looks like a fat cucumber, but bear with me. The Aerobus design doesn't take into consideration the effects of microgravity. This Boeing hull has a spinning core buried deep inside to simulate planetary gravity through centripetal force. That'll keep the crew combat-ready for a long time and would allow for deep strikes behind enemy lines. The power is provided by General Electric antimatter reactors. It also uses a combined ion-gravitic propulsion system. The gravitics are for combat maneuvering, while the ion drives allow for good cruising speed without using the antimatter fuel. That means more power for guns and steering. Our secondary weapons are Raytheon neutron guns. We still don't get the concept of ionized particle weapons in vacuum, but we applied some of their particle beam principles into a homegrown human particle weapon. Since it fires neutral particles, the ions won't repel each other in vacuum. Range, penetration, and rate of fire are very good. The main weapon mounted in the bow, is the Raytheon tri-cannon. Still with me sir?" Despite the obvious lie, I said yes. "George was right about the disadvantages of laser weapons. However, we put three into the bow of that ship instead of one. Each laser is over a hundred petawatts. When the three beams converge, it creates a localized spatial distortion that shakes apart the target. We just aim the beams in front of the target. Space-time simply wasn't meant to hold that much energy on the tip of a pin."

"It seems your idea holds more merit the way you explained it." I told the American.

"I can see you're a little lost, sir. I was too when the eggheads first explained it to me. Their calculations made me want to cut my eyes out. But if you study the literature on the stuff, it's fascinating and the basic concepts can be dumbed down."

"Alright, I'll approve it. How much?"

"Nine hundred billion credits, sir." He said, without batting an eye.

"Alright, what's next?"

"Fighters." The table said all at once. There was a round of laughter at the coincidence. One Australian general continued speaking for the assembled throng. "We knew that we needed ta streamline the logistics a mite. So it's only one capital ship, and one main fighter. The same line of parts can refit all o' it, mate. The two competin' designs are a Lockheed-Colt and a Sukhoi-TDK-H&K design. The Lockheed-Colt is betta in every way. It's state-of-the-art. The _sheila_ moves like a cat, carries enough doodads to make Liberace blush, and hits harder than a barrel of my uncle's homemade brew. Thing is, the price tag is at a trillion and a half." I visibly blanched. "As an unbiased commander, I hafta give my blessin' to the other design. It's rugged, reliable, and far cheaper. Those things have a turreted gauss cannon in the front with a neutron gun fixed in the nose. One nifty thing this fighter does have is the incendiary nature of the ammunition. Instead of a solid spike of met'al, it's a carbon nanotube needle with a tungsten core inside. There's just enough oxygen gas mixed into the core that it will be ignited by friction with the tungsten when the carbon outer structure gives way. That way, it'll be an incendiary weapon once it pierces the hull of a ship, something that normally wouldn't happen in a vacuum weapon. One thing about either design, I gotta' warn ya though. We didn't wanna burden the budget with space superiority missiles and torpedoes. So we decided to ask if you could get the nations to hand over their nuclear arsenals. 'Re-use, reduce, recycle' as the treehuggers say." As was becoming the theme, I merely signed off on what they had decided. Like yesterday, the rest of the session was high-level paper pushing. The decisions were made and I knew history would find me responsible for how things turned out. I came to understand I was indeed culpable. The American admiral was right, I should be studying up on the technologies that were about to revolutionize the world.

* * *

"_Pranaam mahodaya_." One of my own generals greeted me as I entered the meeting chambers for the third day.

"Mr. President, today will be more of a briefing than anything else. The equipment used for ground combat had to be cooperatively developed. As such, the appropriations will be almost entirely due to development costs. The unit price is the cheap part. It should all be within budget though, we just need approval and we can begin briefing you on the basics of our new capabilities. Your general Neelkanta will explain." The computer translation turned the Russian general's gruff language into English as understood by all the other officers in the room.

General Neelkanta Chandak was a man I knew back from when I was merely the President of India. Likely, he was dragooned into service because the other officers felt I'd be more at ease. The projector screen on the far end of the table flashed through images as the briefing went along. The first slide looked like a sort of fish with a flat bottom. "This is one of our two dropships, that is, atmospheric entry/re-entry vehicles. These are fairly small dropships that would double as gunship transports for air mobile infantry. The first thing we looked at was making a space-age tank. However, in order to armor it sufficiently, the weight made it impractical to move without a gravitic engine. Of course, once it has a gravitic engine it would be a flyer rather than a tank. That's why we scrapped the concept of armored cavalry altogether and let the gunship take over the role of main battle tank. The air mobile infantry attached to these dropships are an upgraded form of the American 'land warrior' program. They have fully integrated personal electronic systems. The armor is self-contained, therefore could conceivably go EVA, and is made of Kevlar reinforced with carbon nanotubes. It won't stop the particle weapons being used by the aliens, but it's pretty much impervious to shrapnel, secondary heat, most concussive forces, and melee weapons. Their main weapon is a Colt M1X1 smoothbore coilgun that fires fin-stabilized liquid-metal round in a sabot casing. It's got an undercarriage rail that could hold a grenade launcher or a one-time use, nonlethal chemical electrolaser." At that point, the general elected to whet his lips with a drink of water. The explanation had been rather long-winded, of course.

"The other dropship is a much larger, rugged affair. It transports our other type of infantry, and VTOLs we've developed for logistic purposes. The dropship uses much of the same technology we've outlined earlier with one additional capability." The slide showed a vehicle that looked perfectly spherical except for a flattening at one end. "The flat part you see is the entrance. There are internal landing struts around it. However, the real advantage of these ships is that the flat part also has a shaped, plasma-torching zone. It can lock onto the hull of an enemy ship, cut its way through, and deliver troops inside. The special forces and marine officers all had problems sitting inside of the ships during combat and wanted more active participation." The general gave a good-humored smirk.

"Anyways, the other side of this is the armored power-infantry. We told you about the difficulties of making next generation tanks. This is the loophole. Power infantry are much more agile than a tank, so we can armor just the major target points – head, legs, torso. The sides and back are protected by the same Kevlar-carbon nanotube weave. However, the selected areas use the same Cuirass armor as that of the ships. There's a lot less surface area to cover than on a tank. The rest of the suit is a robotically assisted affair made by Raytheon-Cyberdyne. It uses a microscale muon-catalyzed fusion reactor for power and is armed with a conventional M134 minigun on one arm, over a wrist mount. The other arm has a ten megajoule railcannon. The whole ensemble can also carry a backpack housing antimatter micromortars. It's the closest we can come to a tank. The thing can take direct hits from the alien particle weapon, except at the maximum setting." After a pause, he finished the briefing. "Altogether, we've outlined technology we want to incorporate into three army groups. They're be supported by conventionally-armed engineering battalions, medical staff, and logistical troops."

The room was quieted and I understood that was the end of the brief. I stood up and gesture upward with a hand. "Gentlemen I know both you and public opinion demands we go forth into the stars to defend our honor against the barbarian parasites we've come to learn to hate. Truth is, I don't know if that is the right thing to do or not, but, as this is a democracy, that is what will happen. Humanity is being dragged into a war by a very vocal, very influential minority. However, if we are to go forth, I want to give our fighting men and women the best chance to succeed. Hence, over the next few months, I would like additional briefs on our new capabilities. I'm not content to remain ignorant of these matters any longer.

* * *

**A/N – In the books, which made sense at the time that I read them, Ax remarks about the flaws of 'human science'. Since then, I've gained a better understanding of actual science (chem major here). It would be more accurate for Ms. Applegate to have said 'human technology'. Science can never be flawed. It's either true or not true. How advanced your technology is doesn't simply remove principles like inertia, thermodynamics, or certain quantum/relativistic principles. They've been tested and held up against some serious scrutiny. It's only our fringe science that's likely to be wrong (the stuff that is still theoretical). It's like the alphabet. If you only got up to K, you can say there's a lot missing, but that doesn't change the fact A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I came before it.**


	6. Interlude: The Wounded Beast

**The enemy of my enemy is my friend. – Proverb (attributed to both the Chinese and Arabs)**

Chapter Six: Interlude – The Wounded Beast

Garoff, Seneschal and Member of the Yeerk Council of Thirteen

"The reports are true?" The Emperor asked without looking.

"Why ask question to which you know the answer?" I replied. I had known the Emperor since the days of the revolution against the Andalites, and as a council member, I could legally speak to him however I wanted. "We knew we had consigned Taxxa to the Andalites back when we shifted forces out of the system. It was either that or lose Hork-Bajir **and** Taxxa."

"That doesn't make it any easier. How did it come to this?" He asked as dejected as only a Hork-Bajir voice could sound.

"Earth." I replied simply.

"We gave Esplin quite a few Yeerks, but not too much in the way of equipment. I don't see how that would help in our current situation." The Emperor ventured curiously.

"It's not the ships. It was the idea of turning our greatest strength into our greatest weakness." The Emperor still looked unsure. "The Andalites had been content to treat all species as inferior and assume all responsibility for fighting us. Earth showed them how weak we are when it costs more to take hosts than what the host itself is worth. It was a lesson Alloran learned at Hork-Bajir, but we were fortunate that he was taken." I told the Emperor, mentioning Esplin's host body.

"That can't be it. The humans did nothing. The Andalites saved their world."

I nodded slowly. "In part, however, I am growing increasingly convinced that we were thwarted at Earth by the humans themselves. I am putting together an intelligence review to determine the truth, but I believe Elfangor gave some humans the morphing ability. Surely he would not have balked at breaking any rule to defeat us."

The Emperor actually looked amused for a moment. "What makes you think that?"

"There are some vague clues I gleaned from Edriss, the former Visser One. Do you remember her trial those years back?" I asked. He nodded in the affirmative. "While I was supervising the memory dump, I grew increasingly adept at reading her human facial expressions. I am convinced she was preoccupied with something other than her trial. After Visser Three's charade, I am convinced Edriss knew the bandits were human. The timing of all those coincidences was uncanny. The bandits struck just in time to foil Esplin's trickery and Edriss miraculously survives. Furthermore, she must have had contact with them. She withheld information because she would rather set back the conquest of Earth rather than allow her rival to gain influence." I outlined succinctly

"That is the way of the Vissers. They all try to outdo each other. You think they've gone too far?" The Emperor asked.

"I do. That brings us to the two inherent weaknesses that have set us back. The Vissers forget they serve all Yeerks and are content to run amok as little bandit lords. We need unity and we need allies. Hopefully, allies willing to become hosts or have access to hosts they would be willing to give us."

The Emperor, while not so brilliant, was decisive and knew when to listen to advice. "Then we address these issues. I will bring the Vissers to heel. You find us the resources we need to turn this war."

* * *

My search for allies led me to a meeting with a species bordering our space towards the galactic core. From what I was told, I would be meeting some sort of envoy at an uninhabited system. The way I understood it, they considered themselves a great empire that wanted us to be a buffer zone between them and the Andalites.

The ship that showed up was an awe-inspiring craft. It was a perfect sphere with a reflective surface, echoing the void in which it floated. As my shuttle approached, a section of the orb-ship became opaque and depressed itself into the hull, presenting an opening. My shuttle maneuvered through the opening and docked.

The gravity in the ship took us by surprise. It was very light and I felt the sensation of my Hork-Bajir bulk being lifted away. There was just barely enough gravity to walk normally. I was led to a chamber in which floated large bubbles. They were nearly flawlessly translucent as they gyrated in the air. One floated towards me and slid over my host body. It was the most comfortable sensation I'd ever felt. Just then, my presumed ally appeared.

It was a remarkable being. It stood slightly taller than my Hork-Bajir body, towering indeed compared to most species. The being's shape was nothing special. It had a head, two arms, and two legs. However, its 'skin' shimmered. It looked like its skin was made of quartz plates, articulated in just the right places for bipedal movement. Now I understood the light gravity. The creature would collapse under its own weight in higher gravities.

A rumbling vibration shook the hold, emanating from the creature. The pitch and volume fluctuated rapidly until it began to settle into an acceptable 'voice'. "I bid thee greeting from my masters." The creature said to me.

"There must be some misunderstanding." I told the creature. "Your communiqué suggested that you would give us host bodies. However, your bodies would be of little use in most gravities."

"Indeed. So you shall not be possessing _taleshi_. My masters will design a suitable body for you, rest assured."

I began to understand that the creature's 'masters' might not be a king, emperor, president, or some sort of hierarchical position. "Who are your masters?"

"They are called the _garm_. They are master of all races. Together, all that serve them are called the _kelbrid_."


	7. Fortune, Fickle Friend

**Yesterday, December seventh, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. – Franklin Delano Roosevelt**

Chapter Seven: Fortune, Fickle Friend

Maltheth-Garinal-Yllin, Lieutenant aboard Battlestation Hulwuth

My hooves beat the grass onboard the orbital battle station above the Yeerk homeworld. For the last few months, this was my home. Like so many other males, I thought I would be married to the fleet for the duration of our war. That all changed during my last rotation back to homeworld. In Andalite terms, the three months of courtship I had with my mate was ludicrously short. Despite their skepticism, I was wonderfully content. To my great delight, it seemed I would not spend as much time apart from her as I had feared. She was an engineer specializing in Z-space harmonics. The military was always keen to hire such civilian contractors to maintain sensor grids throughout known space. As such, her engineering vessel spent most of its time under _Hulwuth_'s protection. Unarmed civilian ships were not encouraged to roam the space lanes by themselves.

She galloped up next to me and stopped. Her thoughts seemed to almost purr. {You know, love, your mother still harangues me to see that you run adequately.} My dearest thought to me. For those not well versed in Andalite jargon, running is, in essence, eating. Like mothers everywhere, Andalite mothers are consumed by an obsessive impulse to see their young nourished. If the maternal instinct was spreading to Aluuria…

{Well, the hours we spend on the command bridge are quite long. But I'll never need any accessory motive to run with you, Aluuria-Jameel-Sinzual.} She came from a very well respected clan and I often teased her, about letting a lout become her mate, by using her full name.

Just then, warning klaxons buzzed a steady hum, indicating that all military personnel were to assume battlestations, and all civilians were to report to a ship or lifepod in case it became necessary for them to flee. The dull hum, however, was not the highest alert. It was mere precaution. Experienced spacers, both of us, we headed to our respective places without hesitation and only brief farewells.

By the time I had reached the bridge, the alert had been downgraded. I found out that an as-of-yet unidentified alien ship had emerged from hyperspace, prompting the alarm. As this was a new alien species, we were under first contact protocols. The War-Prince in charge of the station turned his stalk eyes back at the rapidly accumulating junior officers. {All non-essential personnel can stand down. Preliminary communiqués suggest this will be a peaceful first contact, so all non-essential personnel can stand down.}

Feeling half foolish, and half abused for running throughout the battlestation like an imbecile, I made my way to the docking bay to see what Aluuria was doing at the moment.

* * *

Second watch under Commander Galfiya was about as boring as night watches were expected to be. I was working sensor controls, admiring the strange alien craft that had arrived earlier today. It was perfectly spherical! The sensors could identify micro-fractures along the hull, likely places where it would part to allow access. The inhabitants of the sphere were as strange as their craft. The crystal-humanoids were unlike any other lifeform we had encountered. At first, we had surmised that it was perhaps the first ever example of complex silicon-based life, but our science officer disagreed. Our scans indicated the atmosphere inside the craft was more conducive to carbon-based biochemistry.

I was at the stage where my thoughts would invariably turn to Aluuria every so often. She was away from the station at the moment. The alien ship had disturbed some Z-space sensor buoys on its way in-system. They probably thought nothing of it considering few in the galaxy actually paid attention to the Yeerk-Andalite war. But the arrangement of the sensor grid had been jostled slightly, so Aluuria and her fellow techs and engineers had to patch up the hole in our sensors. She was due back towards the tail end of my shift, about a standard hour away.

Suddenly my instruments picked up some unusual readings. {Commander!} I shouted, getting his attention. {I'm reading a huge energy spike in nearby Z-space. There's something huge out there.} In space, a ghostly ripple that indicated a Z-space rift formed. Out of its slight shimmer, a familiar ship emerged. {It's the _Enfidul_.} I said relieved. The _Enfidul _was Aluuria's ship. But what of the instrument readings? I checked again. It was still there. The mass hidden just beyond Z-space was enormous. {Wait, it's still there.}

The shimmer didn't die away. Instead, a trio of blade ships emerged amidst swarms of bug fighters. Behind them were strange new ships. These ships looked to be flat, triangular wedges known as 'flying wings' mated together in the shape of a cross. Whatever weapons they possessed must have been very long ranged. The leading edges of the eighty-ish strong new force fired from impossible distances. About a dozen beams of the unknown weapon impacted the battlestation. A fracture was made at the fore section of the bridge, sucking out the commander and another officer before emergency systems could close the gap. Wounded and leaderless, the remaining bridge staff members were shocked senseless. I felt the need to do something. Aluuria was still out there surrounded by Yeerks. I hit the controls for recording data. Sights, sounds, recent crew logs, reports, and instrument readings were being compiled by the computer along with whatever we could pick up in real-time. All the data was sent in a tight-beam Z-space signal to homeworld.

Just then, I could see bug fighters overtake the _Enfidul_. They ripped apart the civilian vessel with ease, like vermin picking at a carcass. {No!} I screamed. It seemed to shock the crew into action. In a split second I felt the numbness in my body give way to a boiling rage. _They've killed my beloved Aluuria._ {Captain to the bridge. All pilots report to your fighters, scramble!} I took control of the situation. {Communications, see if you can signal any nearby ships.} Andalite fleet forces roamed the system looking for Yeerk forces that periodically tried to sneak by. They would need to be recalled to help in the station's defense. {Weapons, track whatever targets to can and return fire.}

At the extreme ranges of our shredder cannon, some of the alien ships approached into firing range. I saw shredder fire light the vacuum between us and a couple of the 'crux' ships exploded. For all their firepower, it seemed these new ships were lightly protected. However, that wasn't the case with the blade ships. They could shrug off a couple shredder beams. How I wished at that moment to have a dome ship's tail cannon at my disposal.

The captain arrived in a flurry of indignation. {What in blazes is going on?}

{The Yeerks seem to have a new ship or new allies. A sizeable fleet of these new ships accompanied blade ships and bug fighters here.} I told him.

{Why didn't our long-ranged scans pick up a force this large?}

I hadn't thought about it, but the captain raised an unsettling question. Then the answer hit me. {Sir, that new alien ship disturbed the sensor grid, opening a hole in out detection network. They must have come through the gap.}

{I doubt this was a coincidence then. Those on that sphere ship were deliberately treacherous.}

I realized the truth in the captain's analysis. My blood ran cold and I vowed to take revenge on them. The sphere ship itself, likely realizing their ruse might be exposed, moved towards the attack fleet, seeking protection. It was out of range of our shredders in due time, and I despaired. I searched for something, anything, which would be the instrument of my vengeance. At last, I found they had made a serious mistake. The sphere entered Z-space right underneath one of the sensor buoys. What the Yeerks didn't even know is that new sensor buoys came with a self-destruct mechanism. {Boom.}

* * *

The crux ships, enraged at the loss of the sphere ship, focused all their remaining firepower on the station, tearing up the colossal structure underneath the combined weight of its firepower. Arriving Andalite fleet ships inflicted horrific losses on them but they accepted the losses to bring down the station.

* * *

Maltheth felt the warmth of light hitting his face and the feel of grass underneath his hooves. Last he knew, he was on the dying battlestation. _It seems there is an afterlife after all._ His hearts nearly stopped when the distant but recognizable figure of Aluuria graced the horizon and waved to him. He galloped off after her.

The Ellimist looked down on the promising exchange. While he could not cheat death, he could rescue consciousness from the dying. Most peoples in the galaxy had a mythical afterlife incorporated into their religion. But he knew the truth that there was no life after death. However, there was this reprieve that he had built. There was this matrix of worthy consciousnesses that he used to reward his most favored beings. It was also for himself. He could feel the love, contentment, and belonging emanating from such beings and the Ellimist fed off of such delicious auras.


	8. Paid For in Blood

**So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be. – Alfred Lord Tennyson**

Chapter Eight: Paid For in Blood

War-Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthil

As of now, my crew and I have not seen home for almost half a standard year. For the past half of a year I have been leading a raiding force deep in Kelbrid space. We do whatever we can to disrupt the Kelbrid supply lines, destroy infrastructure, and conduct reconnaissance on Kelbrid space. I am in command of the only dome ship in the force. The rest of my force consists of a few light cruiser squadrons. For our own operations, we are forced to scavenge and pillage. Skills I learned on Earth were what led me to be selected to command this force. Still, it is a desperate strategy.

The source of our desperation was the debacle at the Yeerk homeworld. After the initial exchanges, both sides spent more and more forces. The space above the Yeerk homeworld is a graveyard of Andalite, Yeerk, and Kelbrid ships. While we Andalites were the superior warriors, earning kill ratios of two to one, we quickly found that there was almost no end to the amount of ships the Kelbrid could send. The Yeerks themselves were rebounding from their previous losses, thanks to their allies. Eventually, the Andalite high command was forced to quit the battle – at costs. Our forces are now half of what they were at our peak. Raiding forces, such as mine, are the only thing keeping the Yeerk and Kebrid from an assault on the Andalite system. Even so, we know that they will slowly gain the resources to begin their assault. It is only a matter of time. We are rebuilding our fleet and recruiting more warriors, but the slow, steady drain on the very lifeblood of the Andalite people will eventually be felt.

* * *

{Now!} My task force broke cover from the confines of the gas giant. We were ensconced in the atmosphere of radio-isotopic gases when the patrol of crux cruisers sped past. Facing the wrong way, the cruxes could not even defend themselves as we utterly destroyed the small formation. With all ships operating their jamming systems at full power, we advanced on the planet, blowing out planetary communications. The world was an important source of antimatter fuel for the Kelbrid fleet. As soon as the scouts finished their survey of the planet, we would be landing a raiding party to steal the fuel and destroy their facilities immediately thereafter.

Three landing craft, twenty warriors to a ship, touched down around the facility. From the facility, hundreds of creatures spilled forth. They were a new race within the Kelbrid's coalition of species. Their grey-blue skin was dark and leathery. They flew at us on the labors of bat-like wings that seemed underdeveloped for long flights. Angular facial features and squat, powerful physiques completed the look. Somewhere in my mind, a vague reference surfaced. Humans had prodigious imaginations, and this creature looked almost like one of their mythological creations – gargoyles.

As many of them as were, they were unarmed. We blasted them out of the sky at long ranges, completely safe. These were the workers from the facility, not soldiers. Nevertheless, they sold their lives in the face of the enemy. _What is the source of their fanatical devotion?_ We had encountered some half dozen races in Kelbrid space, part of some sort of coalition. The crystal beings – _taleshi _- we first encountered were later discovered to be the messengers and envoys for some central race. Thus far, we had not an inkling of who this central race was. These pitiful creatures were fodder, and we treated them appropriately. We fired until our shredder power cartridges ran dry.

Stepping amidst the charred remains of the gargoyle creatures we had just shot out of the sky, we proceeded to collect antimatter into our containment devices. A portion of the antimatter would be left in containment. A small explosive device was placed near the containment controls for the facility. When it blew, the antimatter would lose containment and mix with normal matter, precipitating the violent matter-antimatter reactions that would remove the facility from the face of this world. We had done this sort of thing before.

* * *

Barely back aboard our ships, we were found out. {War-Prince! We need you on the bridge. A Kelbrid heavy patrol has arrived in system.}

When I arrived, the ground reverberated with the frantic hoofbeats of crew. {Tell the fleet to jump into Z-space.} I commanded my bridge staff.

{Sir, the light cruiser _Triarthri_ is reported that they don't have the power to make jump. Their shuttle is still waiting for them to clear out their hangar bay. It was damaged in the last engagement.} My communications officer reported.

Of course, I already figured out the problem. The _Triarthri_ was the reason we had to land on the planet in the first place. Their fuel levels were the most critical. In the last raid before we entered this system, they bore the brunt of the fighting and sustained damage. Hangar and engineering were the systems most damaged. My force was limited as it was, I didn't want to leave a ship behind or face a pitched battle. Looking at the displays, I saw that the heavy patrol consisted of twenty cruxes. I had half that many light cruisers and my dome ship. This was an even fight, but I didn't want an even fight.

{Tell the _Triarthri_ to run towards the rest of the task force. Leave the shuttle behind. Signal the shuttle pilots. Tell them… to broadcast an unconditional surrender message.} I told the crew. By this point, they had heard many unorthodox tactics from me. They did not question it as fervently as would be expected from most Andalites.

A couple of cruxes broke off from the patrol to capture the shuttle. The rest of the patrol was passing by. The _Triarthri _was some distance away. It would be enough. {Communications, send a message to the shuttle. Tell them to release containment on the antimatter they are carrying.} I hesitated. I had not had to make this sort of ruthless decision in a while. I had hoped I would never have to again, but that was not to be. {And tell them their sacrifice will not be forgotten.}

A brilliant explosion lit the vacuum of space a moment later. The cruxes closest to the blast were vaporized utterly. The formation of cruxes were damaged, disorientated, and shocked. {Tell the light cruiser _Yllethan_ to transfer some of their fuel to the _Triarthri_. The rest of the task force, mop up the Kelbrid patrol.} We fired on the near helpless Kelbrid. In terms of Kelbrid to Andalite killed, it was a tremendous victory. However, our survey of Kelbrid space was quickly uncovering an agonizing truth. We had not even begun to plumb the depths of the Kelbrid war machine. Their empire seemed without end.

* * *

Months of deep raiding later, I was down three light cruisers and exhaustion was beginning to set in. My crews were tight-lipped and fatalistic. They expected to die, consigned to their doom. Their only comfort was the toll we had taken on the enemy. They no longer lived for themselves, but only for their loved ones back home. So it was a mixed blessing when I received a message I both dreaded and hoped for. We were being recalled home.

When I told the crews, they were hopeful. I let them believe that we had somehow turned the tide. However, I knew the more likely explanation. The Kelbrid were finally ready for their final assault. We would be called back to bolster the home defense. We had delayed them for years, but we finally reached the limit of how much we could be expected to do. Our final duty lay ahead.

* * *

I entered high command headquarters. {How bad is it?}

{War-Prince Aximili, I'd like to welcome you back.} War-Prince Jaham greeted me. So many years of war had left us too haggard to hash out any of our differences. Rather that with ideology, we were united in our tiredness and nihilistic expectations. We only had enough fight in us to contend with the Kelbrid, and none left for each other.

{I asked how bad it was.}

{The Kelbrid are not even trying to hide anything. Our outermost markers picked up a Kelbrid fleet in Z-space. They will be here in a month.} He told me and the rest of the high command.

{What are we up against?}

{Intelligence suggest something on the order of a dozen blade ships, approximately five-hundred crux cruisers, and a massive ship of unknown configuration. Their fighter complement with likely be well matched to their capital ships.} He said. It wasn't hopeless, but only just so. Even I would be hard pressed to wager on my own people's victory. We had something on the order of fifty dome ships and ninety cruisers of mixed variety. While our dome ships were the best ships on the field, the blade ships were close in capabilities and the Kelbrid numbers were staggering. Furthermore, Andalite space was fairly straightforward. There were not many special anomalies or obstacles from which to mount ambush tactics.

Once we had considered mining possible approaches, but the Kelbrid might just blockade homeworld and siege us into surrender then. We could survive on our food and fuel resources indefinitely, but homeworld was devoid of mineral resources. We could subsist but never recoup losses if they isolated us from our colonies. They would just nibble us away into nothing. Instead, our current policy was to concentrate all resources into ship production to make blockading unmanageable. If we were to die, better it be fast than lingering.

The high command looked resigned to their fate. They were prepared for a glorious last stand. I could see no other way it could end, but there had to be the possibility of hope. Otherwise, what were we fighting for? {We have lost the battle of flesh and metal. The Kelbrid have more, too much for us to stand against. There is only one option available to us. We must win the battle of wills. If our hope endures longer than theirs, we can triumph. Have we thought about evacuation?}

Jaham looked incensed, as his old self would have been. {And where would you have us go? Andal is our ancestral home. There is nowhere else for us to go.}

{I'm not ready to become a member of an extinct species. As long as a single Andalite endures, we are not defeated. Have one dome ship detailed to escort a seed population, perhaps twenty-thousand, to uncharted territories. We head rimward. If nothing else, our people will fight harder if they believe they are fighting for a hope.}


	9. Interlude: The March

**The ants go marching one by one. Hurrah! Hurrah! – Barney & Friends television show, currently owned by HiT Entertainment**

Chapter Nine: Interlude – The March

Gen. Jacob Berenson, CO AFFR Sixth Army attached to the Indomitable Battlegroup

A sudden knock on the door broke me out of the soporific haze in-between sleep and lucidity. "Mom, Dad, breakfast is ready." The muffled voice of my daughter-in-law said.

"Alright, Cherise, we'll be down in a few minutes." I called back. Not really wanting to get out of bed, I nuzzled the back of Cassie's head, tugging the comforter over our heads and groaning at our being awoken. Being in the army meant I often woke early. What few days I could sleep-in, I relished for their rarity. "Come on Cass, the kids are expecting us." Although slower to wake, Cassie was usually a good sport about it.

Dressing up to pajamas and donning robes, we walked down into our kitchen hand-in-hand. It was a crisp December morning a week before Christmas. Our home in one of the better suburbs of Atlanta was filled with the presence of our three children and one daughter-in-law. We had invited our children to spend the holidays with us. Soon, most of our other friends and family would join us. I suspected it would be the last holiday with the family that I would have for a long while. When the Republic was founded, the National Guard base near the city reverted back to a Naval Air Station. Its proximity to the major shuttle-port hub of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport elevated its importance. All the units stationed in the Eastern United States, or NAICOM, would be shuttled up from there after News Years. They were my command and I would be going with them.

"Hey Dad, when did you say Uncle Tom was flying in again? I was gonna go pick him up." My eldest son, Brendan, asked me. At twenty-five, he was the first child born of his generation. He was especially favored by my parents and Tom – who had married and fathered late.

"I'll go with you. We might be at it all day actually. Your other grandparents, Aunt Rachael, and some of my old friends are also flying in today. We're all going to convoy back to the house for a party." I told him.

"Ooh, Aunt Rachael and Uncle Tobias are coming? You didn't tell me that." My youngest daughter, Jacquelyn, perked up and looked up from her plate. At sixteen, she was a precocious little _fashionista._ Her coffee-colored skin had the same porcelain quality as her cousin, one generation removed. However, for the sake of a shorter title, she was Aunt Rachael. It was also a good thing they didn't see each other too often, or else I would need a higher credit limit.

"Daddy, can Danny come over for the party?" My middle child asked. Caitlyn was a soft-spoken eighteen-year-old who rarely stepped out of line. It was outright creepy how closely she resembled Cassie. Her choice of boyfriend made the comparison even more frightening. Daniel, whom Cassie and I had met before, was the quarterback of Caitlyn's high school football team. He was a natural leader with a moral compass you could trek across the Himalayas with. Unlike most teenagers, who would lord their social standing over the rest of their classmates, Danny and Cait shamed most of their school into good behavior. The 'golden couple' would grant respect and understanding to everyone they meet. Danny even asked me for a recommendation to Annapolis, which I was grateful for. If he had asked me for a recommendation to West Point, I would have to call out the Ellimist for a tongue-lashing. Fate was not meant to be toyed with in such a manner. "Yeah, sure." The downside to such a well-behaved boyfriend for one's daughter was that barring him from access to said daughter would be looked upon dubiously.

* * *

The party was about as raucous as could be for some of the most respected people in the world. Marco leveraged his heroism into fame and fortune. None of us could take the shallow glamour of the celebrity life, but Marco reveled in it. Millions of dollars, Oscars, and all the other trappings of a successful life in showbiz revealed his character for all to see. At the party, he demonstrated his art… which is to say, he knew exactly what to do with peoples' attentions. Quintessentially, he fit the lifestyle. Never interested in family, he drifted between relationships and was childless, thus far.

Rachael was another person who retained the same core of character after the war. She was strong. Whatever she wanted, she went out and got. She was a successful doctor running a major research hospital. Fierceness doesn't fade away in the absence of an enemy. It's simply a personality trait. Her ferocity was demonstrated on the people she worked with. I'm sure they cursed her existence. Very few people saw her soft side. Tobias was the only one that regularly did.

He, Tobias, lucked out. Before the war, he was a drifter. Rather than focusing on a career, he worked hourly jobs, played guitar, painted, wrote. He might have been a cannabis user. After it, he seemed to gain focus. He married Rachael, went back to school, and became a social reformer and, later, politician. His and Rachael's only daughter studied abroad at Cambridge and couldn't make the gathering.

Of all people, Cassie probably suffered the most from the war. She became a veterinarian with a modest practice. Her ability to hold to hope, after so much death, had been compromised. A healer without hope is a doomed endeavor. Family was her purpose, the one thing that really brought her joy. She was also a devoted church-goer. The souls of those we had to kill still weigh heavily on her.

"And you guys called me the insane one. At least, once the war ended, I called it quits." Rachael told the rest of the Animorphs over drinks by the fireplace. "Clearly, Jake is the crazy one for actually going down a road that will lead him back to the Yeerks." Rachael was never known for holding back. While she was certainly not an alcoholic, drinks are designed to loosen inhibitions. Hers was never that strong anyways.

This visibly upset Cassie and she got up to leave. Realizing what she had done, Rachael got up to coax Cassie back. "I hate to agree with Xena, but I kind of have to question your choices too. Although there was no guarantee we'd be fighting Yeerks again, you had to have known there was a chance back when you first joined the military." Marco told me.

I gave him the type of withering glare that made career soldiers break out in sweat. "I don't know what would be worse, being there or not being there."

"We did our service."

"That's right! We know what it means to fight them. We know what it means to think of humanity as part of a larger galaxy. We know what it's like to have to consider the whole of humanity when making decisions. That's why I have to be there. One of us should." I explained decisively to Marco. By this time, Rachael had led Cassie back to the group. I took her hand and pulled her down onto my lap. "I know you guys are worried for me. Thank you. That's what makes you good friends. But you're wrong about this whole thing. We can't avoid it. I can't abdicate my duty. And it'll be different this time. We were kids in a desperate battle back then. Now, we're a united humanity on the march. We'll win."

"I'll drink to that." Rachael held up her glass. We all clinked our drinks together and drank deeply. The warming sensations of the alcohol felt life-affirming and served to drive the fears away.

* * *

At midnight, when Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day, the core of the family sat around the Christmas tree to open presents. No one was ever patient enough to wait until morning. Everyone seemed pleased by their gifts. Now, it was my turn.

Rachael and Tobias, more Rachael than Tobias, gave me a replica medieval broadsword in a case. The length of the blade was engraved "Let's do it". Marco gave me a very expensive bottle of scotch.

When it came down to my immediate family, I was far more excited. Rather than the gift itself, it truly was the thought that counted. Therefore, the thought would amount to more than 'by the way, here's a gift'. I scratched off patches of red wrapping paper revealing a glass case. It was from my son. Inside, there was a basketball autographed by Labron James. There was writing on the ball: "To the Real Hero".

"I don't want to know how you got through to Labron James, but thank you." I thanked Brendan with a knowing smile. He probably had to drop my name to get Labron's attention. Next, there was a rather large parcel from Caitlyn. Inside the long, slender box, I pulled out a very authentic-looking piece of heraldry. I knew there was a language and meaning associated with heraldry, but it was too richly detailed for me to even try to decipher. The one thing that was noticeable, however, was the tiger that was the… "blazon"? It didn't look styled in the medieval style. That's how I knew it was made for me. It was me in tiger morph.

I set down the heraldry and reach out to Cait. I pulled her close, kissed the top of her head, and whispered a soft thank you.

The next give was in a blue, star-spattered gift bag. I reached in and yanked out a white T-shirt. It was plain, except for the print on the front. It said: "I survived the Yeerk Invasion." The whole family fell into a fit of laughter.

"What did you get for Dad, Mom?" My youngest asked. She was eager to see if she would be topped. Cassie handed me a small jewelry box. I opened it to find a jeweled butterfly. I looked at her, only half knowing the meaning behind it.

"You gonna tell us what this means, Mom?" Brendan voiced.

Cassie just shook her head no. "Alright, I think it's time for bed." With that, the family went their separate ways to get some sleep. Cassie led me by the hand. She tugged with a little more force that she usually exerted, indicating something was on her mind.

"What's the butterfly mean? Does it have something to do with when you were stuck in the caterpillar morph?" I asked.

She closed her mouth over mine and kissed hungrily. "Yes. I got lucky, but it was a stupid decision. I made it because I thought more about what we were fighting for more than what I should have lived for. I don't want you to make the same mistake." She undressed and tackled me to the bed with an odd energy about her.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what's up with you, Cass?" I managed to ask in between her frantic kisses.

Cassie was straddled over me. I took in her image. Though we had seen nearly fifty years, I was still fit from a life in the military, and she retained the slenderness of her youth with only a few streaks of white hair and a few wrinkles. She was beautiful still – my angel. "The others gave you a reason to fight…" Suddenly, she was dripping tears down her face. And, abruptly, it stopped.

"…so I'll make you a reason to live."


	10. Hoisting the Colors

**This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But, it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. – Prime Minister Winston Churchill**

Chapter Ten: Hoisting the Colors

Commander Garemel-Thelain-Zandalul, Tactical Officer and adjutant for War-Prince Calait

As if by osmosis from my simple presence and cognition of my own mood, the briefing room aboard the Thousand Blades changed. The nervous, tittering junior officers grew somber to match my own thoughts. They knew something was wrong, for I looked like someone asked to cut off his own tail.

The meeting I had come from was a special assembly of all the ship captains. Our purpose was to choose a ship to lead the refugee fleet away. We were Andalites, as such, we all wanted to stay and fight. So convinced were we that ours alone could turn the tide of battle that there was vehement opposition whenever any captain was suggested. Young or old, reactionary or revolutionary, to the last man, no one wanted to be the one to go. Eventually, we agreed to decide by random chance. In sight of all captains, a program was hastily coded into a computer to randomly decide a ship. The Thousand Blades was picked, in a cruel twist of fate. War-Prince Calait was visibly dismayed and I shared his feelings. Now, it was my job to inform the rest of our command staff.

As with any other Andalite dome ship, the staff consisted of a sub-commander for each division within the ship that functioned as its own self-contained unit – fighter pilots, marines, medical, and engineering. The bridge stations – astrogation, weapons, sensors, and communications – were staffed by a rotation of lieutenants. I think they knew what was coming. The military tended to be tight-lipped, but the tens of thousands of civilians we would be guarding would not be expected to keep quiet and they had to be alerted to do what they were to do. Reluctantly, I told them.

The response was immediate and tremendous. {How can you even suggest this without committing ritual suicide, Commander? I can't believe any self-respecting warrior would run with his tail between his legs.} My wing commander mocked.

{No.} The simple response of the marine commander was preceded by expletives that defy any normal frame of reference, a genuine oddity to our thought-speak.

{Are we even sure there's a destination out there for us?} Astrogation asked rhetorically.

The arguments were simultaneous and utterly lacking in any organization or discipline. {Enough!} I made sure my thought-speak was loud enough to reverberate within their minds. Being experienced in getting the attention of junior officers, the tactic worked. {You say you're Andalite warriors, so start acting like it. It's not your place to argue against the directives of your superiors.} I chastised them harshly. Seeing them visibly wilt, I knew I had broken their resistance. Now I had to rebuild their resolve. {I don't like it anymore than you do, but you can't think of this as a dereliction of duty. No one asked us to abandon our duty. We are still warriors. And warriors perform their tasks to the best of their abilities even if those tasks are not what we expect them to be. I ask you all to have faith in our leaders. We would not be put on this path if there was no purpose.}

{What do we do?} The medical sub-commander finally asked after a silence in which my words were being digested.

{As I said, we are not bereft of duty quite yet. Pilots, sensors, and weapons, you all should be vigilant. We might still encounter a combat situation escorting the refugee fleet. Marines, the civilians are not disciplined soldiers. There could be unrest and the journey could be long. You should be prepared to police the entire fleet. Engineering and medical should prepare for a long journey in which ship and health must be well maintained. Astrogation, begin researching the rimward starcharts. We will need to be able to navigate it swiftly. Communications, set a communication protocol with the rest of the fleet. We don't want to lose anyone while in Z-space. Dismissed.}

* * *

{How did they take it?} War-Prince Calait asked me in private when I stepped into his ready-room.

{As well as can be expected.} I told him plainly.

He nodded. {Just so. Truth is, I don't want to leave anymore than they do. High command knows, though, that you have to stay alive before you can fight back. This isn't a surrender, just a retreat of a higher scale.}

{Sir?} Although true in a metaphysical sense, this move would end the war in all practicality. It would take centuries to rebuild to the point that we could return to exact our retribution.

{High command didn't like the idea of going quietly into the night anymore than I did.} He punched in some commands into a computer and a holographic display sprang up in front of me. {This is a factory ship.} He pointed to the object being displayed. It was a massive ship massing four times that of a dome ship. {It carries digitized information on all of our technologies and prefabricated industrial facilities. Depending on whether we find a mineral rich or fertile world, we will have the option of rebuilding our strength through robotics or _in vitro_ biotech. We can strike back in years instead of centuries.}

{Will the civilians stand for it? They've just endured years of hardships. I don't know that they'll agree to go through it again. And I don't want any part of bullying them into a war of vengeance for little gain.} I asked him.

He nodded in understanding. {If it was only the Kelbrid we would have to worry about, that would be true. Although the Yeerks have been relegated to a secondary concern, they are still there. When we return, we won't just be coming back to a dead world, but one full of enslaved Andalites. You're right that we shouldn't ask them to shed their blood for revenge, but liberating our own is something that would be more worthwhile.}

* * *

A week into our mournful exodus, I found myself awoken from my lethargy by some worrying sensor readings.

{Sir, come take a look at this.} My night shift sensor officer beckoned me. I walked over to his station with some apprehension.

{This can't be right. Are you sure the instrumentation isn't malfunctioning?} I asked skeptically.

{No sir. We are sensing the whole refugee convoy with no difficulties. If our instruments were malfunctioning, we shouldn't be able to gain telemetry on our own ships either.}

I activated the in-ship communication systems. {Captain to the bridge.}

A short while later, War-Prince Calait appeared. {What is it, Geremel?} He asked while still dazed by sleep.

{Sir, we've detected a fleet of unknown ships. It's a massive formation and a possible first contact situation. I felt that only you would have the authority for something like this.} I explained to him.

{We should try to avoid them.} Calait told the bridge crew. {If they're hostile, we aren't equipped to handle a force of this magnitude. If they're friendly, I doubt they would respect us as a civilization in the state we're in.}

{Aye sir.} Astrogation said in acknowledgement of his directive.

This course of action was not to be, however. Sensors spoke up again. {That won't be possible sir. They're detected us… and they're coming towards us. The entire armada. Scans confirm they're armed. The ships are primitive but powerful.}

{Sir, new orders?} I asked for the benefit of the rest of the crew.

{Communications, can we signal them? We need to find out what they want.}

The lieutenant in charge of communications was stock still and silent. It was a clear indication of shock and worry. {Sir, we have an incoming text-only transmission from them. I don't understand, but it's in _Galard_.} It was a curious mystery. _Galard_ was the language of trade and diplomacy in our sector of the galaxy. Our warbooks – the computerized directory of every ship type known - are kept meticulously updated through trade with the Skit Na, Ongachic, and so forth. These ships were unknown, yet possessed the _Galard _language codes. The message was just as worrying as the fact of them knowing _Galard_.

**Andalite fleet, please allow us the coordinates for your homeworld. We've come to fight. **


	11. Battle of the Darkened Airy Sea

**[I love the smell of napalm in the morning.]… [Smelled like… victory.] – Lt. Colonel Bill Kilgore, played by Robert Duvall in Francis Ford Coppola's ****Apocalypse Now **

Chapter Eleven: Battle of the Darkened Airy Sea

War-Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthil

Our moons had been evacuated of all personnel before the Kelbrid and Yeerks came. Now, joined with the pulverized hulks of dead spaceships, became obstacles from which ships fought.

My own squadron of dome ships and escorts rounded the edge of one such moon in a high speed strafing run. We caught a blade ship and a dozen crux cruisers unawares and blasted them into bits. But there were more enemies than that, and they returned fire. Outnumbered, my handful of ships ran at full speed around the edge of the moon again.

{Did we lose anyone?} I asked my sensor station.

{The dome ship LightTree and her escorts have disappeared off of our scopes.}

I bit off a curse. This wasn't working. We had precious few ships left. At first, we fought the invading fleet head-on. The initial exchanges profited us a little over a hundred crux cruisers as well as half the blade ships. The cost was too high, however. Two-thirds of our fifty-some-odd dome ships were destroyed. By mass, we were killing the enemy two-to-one, but it wasn't enough. While our ships retreated to lick its wounds, our defense grid bled them further, claiming dozens of cruxes and fighters. However, the enemy's longer effective range allowed them to remove our defense grid from the equation, including the three battlestations that were the linchpins of the defense grid.

This was why I found myself sniping at the invaders from the shadows of moons and dead ships. Though we could hurt them, their forward momentum was unimpeded. So now we hurried to get in front of the invaders before they moved into firing range of homeworld.

Unfortunately, it seemed the invaders realized our error. Several cruxes exploded violently as they absorbed direct hits from Andalite tail cannons belonging to our other dome ship squadron assuming point defense of homeworld. However, the Kelbrid forces were quick and swarmed over the other dome ship squadron. _At least the refugee fleet was able to get underway._

That sentiment died quickly. A Z-space rift opened up, a dome ship coming out from it. It was the Thousand Blades. War-Prince Calait had not only abandoned the refugee fleet, but had picked the worst time and place to be. The invading fleet was going to roll over his ship in short order. At least, that was what I thought.

{War-Prince, there's something preparing to come out of Z-space on top of the Thousand Blades.} My sensor station told me. He sounded worried and apprehensive.

{What is it?} I asked him.

He hesitated as if unsure of what to say. {That's a lot of ships.} Came a muffled though-speak reply.

{Sensors, report!} I yelled to shock him out of his daze.

{Sir, by mass, there are nearly twenty-nine million metric tons of shipping there.}

The refugee fleet massed less than a fifth of that number. A new unknown variable was about to come into play. I could only hope against all expectations that the unknowns were not hostile craft. {There's nothing we can do about it. Keep moving into intercept position, full speed.}

{Sir, the Thousand Blades is moving to engage, and the unknowns are coming out of Z-space.} We collectively held our breaths. It occurred to me that I might be a witness to Armageddon._ I am the servant of the People. I am the servant of my prince. I am the servant of honor. My life is not my own, when the People have need of it. My life is given for the People, for my prince, and for my honor._

Around the Thousand Blades, black ships emerged. They were simple elongated ovoid-shaped craft about five hundred meters long. Smooth ridges ran down its length, from which weapon turrets were mounted by the dozens. Three parabolic indentations pocked the nose, indicating some unknown device. Furthermore, there were hundreds of them. I counted upwards of two-hundred ships.

{We're detecting an energy buildup coming from the unknown ships. They're firing weapons.} My sensor officer reported. I was too transfixed on the tableau to even look at him with my stalk eyes.

A slight rippling, shimmering, of space appeared among the Kelbrid formations. Many of their ships tumbled out of control. Small bits of debris shredded off from their hulls whilst others collided, driven by an invisible force. The formations of cruxes were thrown into disarray. They weaved in desperate patterns to avoid their own out-of-control craft. The black ships took the opportunity to launch equally black fighters from hanger bays located at the aft belly of their ships. Before the cruxes could fix their formations, the black ships and their fighters were in among them. Greenish-yellow beams raked the confused formations of cruxes. They didn't seem all that powerful. Several direct hits were needed to disable the cruxes. What the weapons lacked in power they made up for in number. The black ships fired twenty, thirty, or even forty beams at a time. As if suffering from a pox, the cruxes were shrouded in small explosions like boils. They returned fire here and there, but could barely disable more than a handful of ships.

While the Kelbrid were conditioned to fight to the last, the Yeerks were somewhat more pragmatic. The blade ships turned and ran after their screening force was blasted away by more than half. As we were in pursuit of the invader's van, their flight took them in range of us. We opened fire, outnumbering them even if only slightly. In a mood for withdrawal rather than battle, they were dispatched with greater speed than otherwise possible.

Turning my eyes back to the battle between the unknown ships and the Kelbrid, I saw that they were slaughtering the Kelbrid with ruthless efficiency. The massed formations of black ships formed a solid wall of firepower. Confronted by a virtual wall of fire, the Kelbrid died spectacularly, running into harm in a zealous attempt to die fighting. Die fighting they did. When it was all clear, space filled the signatures of Z-space transitions. Our refugee ships jumped into normal space along with a few unknown ships – one massive black one two miles long, and several drab green ships which were boxy in shape.

{There is an incoming message from the Thousand Blades, sir.} My communications station reported to me.

He put it through to reveal a holographic image of War-Prince Calait. As a long-time subordinate of his, I had learned to read many of his expressions. He looked visibly smug and amused. {Greetings Aximili. As you can see, it seems we have some unexpected allies. They requests your presence and the presence of every fleet captain still left. Take a shuttle to their largest ship. They won't mind if you feel the need to bring protection, but you won't need it.}

{Are you going to tell me who they are?} I asked Calait.

{I could, but then I'll miss seeing the look on your face. By the way, you might want to see if you can break out some magnetic hooves.} His image gave a salute and winked out of existence. Magnetic hooves were a sort of footwear Andalites slipped on to maintain footing in zero-gravity ships. It seemed preposterous that such a powerful force didn't even have artificial gravity, but I would have to take Calait at his word.

My marine sub-commander approached me next. {Should I arrange a security detail for you, sir?}

I shook my head. {Calait trusts them. This will probably be like a debriefing. You can arm yourself if you wish, but I won't be taking a security detail. Alert all officers to come with me.} By the time I reached the hangar bay, my bridge officers were there waiting for me. {I'd rather you all be as well informed as possible in order to acquit your duties. So, you're all coming along for a ride. I hope you've all remembered diplomatic protocol. If not, just try to remain silent.}

* * *

Getting off the shuttle, I was shocked in a good way. Standing in rows awaiting the arrival of the assorted Andalite shuttles were uniformed ranks of humans. I never thought I'd see them again. Neither did I expect to one in particular. "It's good to see you again, Ax-man."

Looking visibly older and more mature was Prince Jake. {What? How?} I managed to stammer unintelligibly despite the fact that it was thought-speak.

"That's what we're here to talk about. From what I hear, there's still a long war ahead of us. We need to hammer out the details." He said with all the seriousness that I had come to know. My crew and the other Andalite captains with their entourages followed Prince Jake deeper into the human ship. All the while, our people fell into frenzied discussion about our unexpected allies. As the only Andalite with significant contact with the humans, I suspected that a great many questions would come my way in the coming months.

* * *

**AN – **

**A few random tidbits I thought about and might be worthwhile to share. The first is Andalite thought-speak. I find it funny that a thought-based society would get worked up over units of measure in the books. In my story, thought speak produces a unit of measure (years, months, days, weeks, miles, kilometers, metric tons, etc.) for the benefit of me being able to type something coherent. But I imagine if you actually heard thought-speak you would 'see' the distance/time/weight and just attach whatever units of measure you work with best. Andalites themselves would never need to bother with their own units of measure until it came time for them to do some sort of calculation.**


	12. Interlude: From Orléans to Patay

**All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved. – Sun Tzu**

Chapter Twelve: Interlude – From Orléans to Patay

Gen. Jacob Berenson, CO AFFR Sixth Army attached to the Indomitable Battlegroup

"Welcome to the _Exemplar_. I'm General Berenson. Come with me." The Andalites all looked at each other in confusion as I told them this. Obviously, they would be looking towards their Princes to tell them if they should. Likely, there would be a lot of thought-speak flying about to which I wouldn't be privy to. Calait and Aximili took the lead, however, ending all debate. I led the assorted officers to a conference room. The flag officers in the fleet – Admirals and Generals – were already present and seated around banks upon banks of tables arrayed facing an open center. An area towards the rear of the room was open space in case of alien body types that did not sit. Enlisted Navy stewards showed the Andalite officers and their entourages to their places.

I knew the Andalites were prideful, but I needed a no-bullshit answer. "Ax, what's happened?"

To his credit, he was very straightforward with his answer. {The Yeerks entered into an alliance with a new race a while back. We've been conducting a holding operation ever since. We just didn't have the resources to fight them both off no matter how well we fought.}

That got the Andalites talking. Pretty soon, the rest of the officers were inputting their own observations and knowledge. The advanced Andalites were able to call for some pretty detailed maps of the galactic situation. They had Yeerk territory fully mapped, as well as a good chunk of Kelbrid territory.

{We've mapped all of the Kelbrid territory in the Scutum-Centaurus Arm. However, their homeworld lays somewhere further coreward.} Ax's astrogation officer informed us. From my own briefings with naval stellar cartographers, I was at least somewhat familiar with the basic concepts of astronomy. The structure of our galaxy, as it is, is like an octopus. The tentacles of the octopus, called "arms" are lengths of denser star concentrations spiraling outward from the galactic core. As a matter of probability, there are more civilizations based in these "arms" than in the less dense space in-between. Sol, or Earth's home system, is based in the "Orion Spur", a subset of these "arms". From one end to the other, the Milky Way was a little over one-hundred thousand light-years in diameter if you ignore the Z-axis. We were only ten-thousand light-years from Earth and this was the extent to which we had traveled. Our fight, looking at the map, would take us closer to thirty-thousand light-years from Earth. That's with the assumption that the Kelbrid homeworld was somewhere on the Norma Arm. If it was on the other side of the galactic core, it would take decades to find and invade, in all likelihood.

"We know where the Yeerks are, at least. We should focus on them first." I rendered my opinion.

{But Prince Jake, the Kelbrid are the greater threat.} Ax said.

There was a smattering of amused chuckles. "Please, Ax, call me General. You know prince is a royal title, not a military rank in Earth terms."

{Force of habit.} He muttered indignantly. I think he rather enjoys calling me "prince".

"You can always call me prince in private. Anyways, the Kelbrid might still be out there, but it will be some time before they can attack. They've had plenty of chances to make use of any strategic reserve if they had one to begin with. That means we have some time before they're back in the game. In the meantime, we can hit the Yeerks and avoid fighting a war on two fronts."

{What are you suggesting?} The other War-Prince, Calait, asked me.

"I suggest we take out the Yeerks once and for all. We brought three battlegroups with us. The Excalibur battlegroup will stay here to defend the Andalite homeworld while you recoup some losses. I'll take the Indomitable and Theodore Roosevelt battlegroups to hit Hork-Bajir. The Tatsumaki and Han Long battlegroups will hit Taxxa. After we've consolidated the bulk of Yeerk territory, we'll hit the Yeerk homeworld in a three-pronged attack."

As I trailed off, Admiral Shirokov reminded me of some more sanguine points. Ax was an old friend, but only for me. This was a completely unprecedented alliance in both our histories. "Now that we have located you, Earth will be sending along an ambassador and diplomatic staff. Also, these assaults will not be possible if we do not find an amenable means to combine our command structure." I had to acknowledge this was true. Stepping on each others' toes could be dangerous in war.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Combining command structures was something the Andalites had never even considered before. I was not unaware of the prideful nature of the Andalite military.

Fortunately, Ax delivered. {This would be helpful. The advantages to strategic and tactical coordination are far too valuable to ignore. When your diplomats arrive, we will have the electorate ready to make decisions concerning our new alliance.}

After a series of somewhat less substantial discussions, the meeting broke up into smaller committees charged with laying the groundwork for such integration upon the agreement of our respective civilian governments. The _Exemplar_ was a space-based command vessel crewed by civilians, thus was replete with office space for them to use. This left just Ax and I in the conference room.

"So how have to been, Ax-man?" I asked casually.

{Busy.} His reply was flat and sardonic even by thought-speak terms.

"Yeah, I saw." Truthfully, I was impressed. We came expecting the usual Yeerk-Andalite stalemate. They must have done something right for the Yeerks to go crying for help.

{I appreciate what you did for us today, but you have no idea the extent the Kelbrid's influence extends. I can see you are getting astonishing performance from your machines through typical human ingenuity, but it won't be enough. You saw on the map how massive the Kelbrid are.}

"That just means you need us even more." I told him. "Yeah, it seems like the Kelbrid are sitting on an endless stockpile of resources, but it's got to be limited somewhere. The way they fight, they're gonna need all of it."

{True, they don't seem to care how many ships or lives they spend. Doesn't that worry you?} He seemed to be pleading. I was deeply touched at his concern for me and my own people, but we were all soldiers. I didn't bring along a bunch of girl scouts.

"Of course it's a concern, but we've been in impossible situations before. Don't you remember? Besides which, we're probably a little more prepared then you give us credit for."

{What do you mean?}

"I know we're new to the space-faring community, but you of all people should expect the type of expansion we have planned. We've scouted most of the star systems within sixty light-years of Earth. We didn't slag down our ocean-going ships or strip-mine our planet to build these fleets. We mine asteroids for minerals, get gases from Jovian planets, and so on. We have over eight billion people now. We can double the number of ships you've seen here in a few years. We'll see if the Kelbrid can keep up with us."

{They've still been at it much longer than you have.}

I shrugged. "Maybe, but we won't know until we fight it out."


	13. The Light

**Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity. – Horace Mann**

Chapter Thirteen: The Light

Pvt. Matthew Benn, Air Multi-Role Infantry, 6th Army

The beginning was easy. The Yeerks either ran for the hills, or died futilely with barely a handful of kills when we first landed. The above-ground terrain was pretty much flat, making it hard for them to stand up against XV Corps. Their own construction efforts – felling trees, mining out mountains and hills – eliminated all sorts of natural obstacles. Any artificial strong points they had - bunkers, bases, and the like – where hit by orbital strikes from the ship-based tri-cannons.

So, in the first real combat opportunity for the juggernauts, they executed the most dangerous maneuver in modern war – the frontal charge. The armored power infantry resembled the comic book character, hence the name. For my own part, I was more partial to the Halo games. The jugs might have been Juggernaut's size with a dome-ish helmet, but were sleeker like Master Chief. I had to allow that they fought Juggernaut's way though, shambling forward with alacrity and annihilating anything standing in the way. The minigun tracers and the argent flashes from their railcannons filled the space between them and the Yeerks.

The Yeerks themselves were somewhat changed from what we knew. The few hundred thousand Hork-bajir hosts were actually outnumbered by some new creature. Their new bodies were some reptilian-humanoid affair. They looked like someone shrank Godzilla, cut off the snout, and rounded the facial features. Maybe they were stronger than the Hork-bajir, or more numerous. Whatever the case, the Yeerks learned the same hard lesson we did in World War I. It really doesn't matter how many troops you have, or how strong they are, firepower trumps all.

With the surface taken care of, now was the time to secure the last of the planet - the deep-core valleys.

* * *

The first we heard of our next operation was a company level briefing by Captain Westin. He was your typical straight-laced officer. That is, he was educated at a 'for real' college and survived though his years as a green lieutenant without getting anyone killed. The guy was barely older than most of us, he was in his mid to late twenties, but was already used to having his orders listened to. He didn't even have to bark them like the sergeants. I had to allow that it probably meant he knew what he was doing. Still, there's a bit of uncertainty when you're among the first of your kind to do something – like fight an interstellar war.

"Alright guys, here's the deal. After this briefing, we'll be going to get parachutes, the same shit that your great grandpas used to jump in behind Normandy, and land in the deep valley of this planet. There are eight nodes down there that, together, constitute the planetary climate controls. We'll be going in without air or orbital support; because the atmosphere is so dense you can't see in the muck. The brass wants this place to give to the snakeheads and don't want us wrecking it. If we tried bombing the place without being able to see, we'd be likely to blow the hell out of the weather control nodes. The whole division is jumping into the valley in platoon-level formations. It's a ye olde' fashioned bug hunt. That is, there's nothing but hunters and their rifles down there. We find the nodes and we take control of them. As a side note, the snakeheads have all sorts of kooky boogey man stories about this place so keep your eyes peeled for non-Yeerk threats too."

* * *

Our platoon of forty men landed on the valley floor. After unstrapping the parachutes, we got a good look around. Visibility was piss-poor. The dense atmosphere looked foggy. The terrain was wet, shrubby, uneven ground.

"Go half thermal." Lieutenant Hernandez told us. Our battle dress uniforms, officially the Hostile Encounter War Dress Uniform, were equipped with a computerized helmet that looked something like a motorcycle helmet from years past. It was slimmed down and the inside of the visor carried a HUD controlled by voice commands and an eye movement cursor. I myself am partial to my own sight. Thermal images are a riot of colors that I hate looking at, so I designated a small area in the upper-right corner of my HUD to hold the thermal screen. "How do you expect to see anything this way, LT? I'm not getting anything higher than blue on thermal."

"That's a good thing." He shot back. "If something does pop up, it'll be pretty obvious then. Until then, the two feet of visibility we do have should be enough to stop us from tripping over our own feet." The lieutenant stopped responding, in deep concentration within the confines of his helmet. "Alright guys, we're in business. The engineers just finished the com relay towers so we should be getting navigation data soon."

The valley was a gaping maw in the side of the planet. Spires of rock jutted into the openings like teeth in a mouth. The spires and the thick atmosphere could garble communications, so command had the engineering battalion construct relay towers along the protrusions to guide communications. In moments, my HUD began showing various markers that told us where we were. Each platoon was given a sector four miles long by four miles wide in which to search. Our nav data told us we were in the corner of our search sector. Green-tinted grid lines appeared on my HUD and I stalked my assigned area as the platoon fanned out into a search pattern.

An hour into our search, the virtual map on my HUD updated itself to include one of the nodes. Some platoon had found their assignment and placed a beacon outside it. It was far from our search sector, so we still had to keep looking. A few minutes later, a second beacon went up. "Heads up, guys." The lieutenant called out. "Hill at half a klick." He pointed out, or rather showed as a navpoint on our HUD.

"How can you tell?" I asked. Then I looked in the direction he was pointing at. "Oh." Although we all knew how to hand signal from basic training, the secured com systems in our helmets were too useful not to use, besides which visibility was poor.

Thermal imaging showed a mess of reddish-orange glow at a higher elevation than what we were standing on. "Davies, take your squad up that hill and see what that is. Get a good look around while you're at it. The weather control node is supposed to have a superstructure that rises above the primary vapor layer."

Staff Sergeant Davies was the leader of my squad, bravo. That meant I'd be going with him. A brisk march in standard v-formation got us there in a couple minutes. As we got close enough, we found the hill was actually a rock promontory overlooking the surrounding ground in the direction of the middle of our search sector. This made it an excellent vantage point. The creature at the apex of the promontory suddenly broke from its lethargy and charged at us.

Instantly, ten rifles came up and began firing. Our M1X1 coil rifles fired three-millimeter Vitreloy-8 fin-stabilized kinetic energy penetrators in two varieties. One was a pure armor-piercing sabot dart with solid fins for stabilization. The anti-personnel rounds, which we were firing, had discarding plastic fins. As soon as the round penetrated deep enough into the target to contact the fins, they sheared off and the projectile began to "tumble" or roll end-over-end. Although only three millimeters wide, the projectile was a two full centimeters in length. Combined with the relativistic speeds at which the projectile traveled, the round produced permanent cavitations a foot across. This meant a three-millimeter by two-centimeter projectile produced a hole you could almost stick your head in.

We checked the body and reported our findings. The body had to have massed equal to that of an elephant. The massively strong upper body supported two arms that ended in three digit hands. "Looks like a Jubba-jubba." I recalled from circulated descriptions given to us by the snakeheads – our colloquial term for the Hork-Bajir.

"It looks like we found our target. Marking navpoint now." Sergeant Davies reported. I took a peek off the promontory myself. In the distance, peaking above the vapor layer was a gleaming pyramid that must have been the head of the superstructure we were looking for. It was surely the first artificial construct we'd seen down in the valley.

* * *

When we got underneath the node, we found it to be a pentagonal pyramid suspended overhead by five legs that continued off the five edges of the structure. After setting the beacon, it only took half an hour for the other platoons in the company to arrive. The five platoons each took a leg of the structure and breached it with plasma cutters.

We found the node to be eerily quiet. The entire walk up to the pyramidal structure was unopposed. We soon saw why. The base floor of the pyramid was crawling with a nightmarish creature, the Gork. It was a wide, squat ramble of a creature that was all sharp mouthy bits. In true military fashion, however, we shot it full of holes. That was the standard operating procedure for soldiers faced with a threatening adversary since time immemorial. Only, now, we had something better than spears and arrows.

The base of the pyramid was vast and cluttered like a hangar deck on a ship. That's probably what this thing was, we decided. Seeing as how the pyramid was suspended a hundred feet in the air with no apparent openings, the floor must have been able to drop down like an elevator with invisible cables. _"Gravitic lift?"_ We made our way through the floor, shooting up Gorks when they came scrambling out at us. It was grisly work as the Gorks nested among the chewed up remains of their dinner – snakeheads. Black, blue, green, and white platoon were found at the base of some sort of ramp-way. Looking up, the thing ran along the inner lining of the pyramid like a staircase without steps. It was like the grooves of a screw inside-out. At regular intervals, the ramp evened out into what basically amounted to floors. However, the walkway was totally uncovered. We could see most of the path all the way up to some sealed room at the peak.

At the top, there was definitely a sealed room. Agreeing that the room was probably the control center, we cut through an entry point with plasma cutters and threw in flashbangs. The screechy hissing sounds that followed were the known voices of the Hork-Bajir bodies. "Throw in another double round of flashbangs and then follow. Shock any snakehead with a weapon." Captain Westin told us. We faced mostly the new reptilian hosts on the surface. Standing orders were to try to free the snakeheads where possible.

We did as the captain asked and had a relatively easy go of it. The Hork-Bajir had senses every bit as delicate as ours and we dumped a lot of flash on them. Their wild shots were put down with electrolaser fire. The bright, lightning-looking barrage came from a device on the undercarriage of our rifles. The bright purple plasma channels guided lightning bolts that acted as a long-range taser, disabling its targets in a deluge of electrical discharge. At second glance, there were about a hundred Hork-Bajir in the room and in the adjoining alcove. Not more than a handful, four or five, held Dracon weapons. Two portable Yeerk-pools adorned the rear corner of the room. These pools were without their normal support base as they lilted to a side like a spilled bathtub. It was a sad sight. The Yeerk looked like they were caught unawares by the Gorks and had to manually heft the pools up to the control room, locking the doors behind them and swallowing the keys.

"Alright troops, police up these 'xenos' and upload the package." Captain Westin ordered. The 'package' was a hacking program that came awfully close to artificial intelligence. We could use it to hijack the atmospheric controls and clear the fog down in our section of the valley. That way, the gunships would be able to come down and retrieve us.

All in all, the operations here on the Hork-Bajir homeworld were pretty easy. That made the whole endeavor more than a little satisfying. Even though most of us barely spared a thought about the snakeheads most of the time, it was still nice to be thought of as a liberator. We even got through the valley without a single casualty. Hopefully, the rest of the division had just as easy of a time as we did. That would make it a remarkable achievement of taking a planet with only a few hundred casualties. And most of them were crash landings by gunships in the initial phases of deployment. _"Hope the snakeheads appreciate getting their planet back."_


	14. The Darkness

**To insult someone we call him "bestial." For deliberate cruelty and nature, "human" might be the greater insult. – Isaac Asimov**

Chapter Fourteen: The Darkness

Col. Wu Shan, Power Infantry Regiment Commander, 3rd Army

Despite being locked up inside a shell of metal and wires, I was fully aware of the world outside in a manner that was almost intimate. The heads-up-display inside of my helmet gave me a variety of forms of intelligence about the enemy. With a few spoken commands and movements of the eyes I could manipulate maps, communicate with any forces within sub-light communications range, relay orders graphically, or initiate combat programming. In this instant, I was mostly concerned with two reports. Orbital imagery from our warships orbiting the Taxxon homeworld spotted pockets of resistance rising up against us. The Yeerk's new reptilian hosts, which we called 'reds' – short for 'redshirted dinosaurs' – due to their propensity for dying _en masse_. They were supposed to be the Yeerk's new preferred hosts. Too bad the Yeerk doctrine of war was millennia outdated. They didn't provide their foot soldiers enough firepower. Not only did human forces carry multiple weapons, we were never stingy with air support, intelligence assets, engineering battalions, special operations cells, and all the conveniences of modern warfare. But I digress.

The reds and Taxxon were coming at us overland. They were several miles away and travelling on foot. The imagery showed that they were armed with the smallest dracon weapons that were analogous to side arms. Most notably, the Taxxons outnumbered the 'reds' three to two. As this was the Taxxon homeworld, and the fact that Taxxons propagated quite massively, there should have been more Taxxons. Those bulbous slugs should have outnumbered their other half at least ten to one. From the intelligence gleaned from our Andalite allies, it was widely known that Taxxons could burrow underground. This made them undetectable by orbital imagery. Their metabolisms were unenergetic enough to produce a negligible heat signature as well. We had a countermeasure in place, however.

"Seismograph sensor buoys in place." The officer in charge of the engineering battalion reported over communications.

I quickly punched up the standby order to my unit. Our objective was to defend a drilling platform set up by the engineering battalions. There were numerous, identical installations across the planet. My heavy armored infantry was arrayed in a defensive perimeter around the installation. The terrain around us consisted of sizable, sight-obscuring sand dunes the color of rust. The mixed wave crested the dune as I ordered the unit to advance in unison. The minigun mounted on my left arm hard-point spat out projectiles like a swarm of biting insects.

I don't know if you know the true scope of battlefield weaponry. Gunfire, as antiquated and primitive as it seems in interstellar war, does not make neat, round holes. Bullets deform as they encounter solid substance. The kinetic energy is transferred to the target, making holes orders of magnitude larger than the projectile itself. A burst decapitated a 'red' in front of me and burst apart several more Taxxons standing behind the target. Occasionally, the Taxxons would pull a sled housing a sort of mortar weapon. On this, the unit would direct railcannon fire, tearing up the weapon and mount. Seismic sensors alerted me to the presence of the massed Taxxon wave passing underneath us. As they appeared behind us, we sprang our countermeasures.

Units of the air multi-role infantry were kept in reserve hovering about the cloud line in their gunships. As the Taxxons emerged, the gunships carrying the lighter infantry units emerged. The buzzsaw-like report of minigun fire, sonic booms from the coilguns, and the concussive sensation of rockets told the tale of the Taxxon's fate.

As our forces carried the battle, I surveyed the field. Occasionally, I would spot the downed forms of one of my men, their blue-grey armor looking like the wreckage of a machine rather than a living being. Their platoons – called squadrons in armored infantry parlance, well drilled, had already taken care of them as my tactical display reported the blue crosses representing medivac units coming to take the casualties back to the dropships for treatment. We gave no such care to downed enemies. Not that we could. Taxxon were soft creatures renowned for bursting apart like a steamed pork bun when hit with weapons fire.

"We're done here. Pull back your units." The word came back from the drilling platforms.

I acknowledged the message through my command and control programming and issued those same orders to my unit. All around me, the lumbering blue-grey forms of my subordinates fell back in an organized fashion. Though, to be honest, the enemy ranks were so decimated there was little to worry about. We boarded our dropships, accompanied by the engineers. Lifting off, we said our mental goodbyes to this planet as we knew what was coming.

Looking down from orbit, small blooms dotted the planetary surface like a sick man with a pox. The drilling platforms were made to punch a hole through the planetary crust at certain fault lines. We seeded the bones of the world with nuclear bombs. Whereas Hork-Bajir was a rescue operation, Taxxa was an extermination. The bright flashes were appealing in a way that belied the pure hell that was happening on the surface of the planet.

Nothing would live on this principal Yeerk world. Their own homeworld was next…


End file.
